Waiting
by InSilva
Summary: “Body and Soul” verse. Set somewhere close to the beginning of “Understanding”. Where an early job does not go as planned. Mature but inexplicit themes touched on. Complete.
1. Opportunity

Waiting by InSilva

Disclaimer: neither of them belongs to me. Yes, yes, I do keep reading the small print in case I'm wrong.

Summary: "Body and Soul" verse. Set somewhere close to the beginning of "Understanding". Where an early job does not go as planned.

A/N: It's not a one-shot. It's not "Justice" or "An Unholy Alliance". It's somewhere in the middle. Probably two chapters. Maybe three. And anyone who finds this lack of certainty amusing will be subject to a hard stare. And a sigh and a nod. Because I am completely useless on such matters.

This is set in the very early days of Danny and Rusty meeting. After their first couple of jobs. Before Rusty has completely left Saul and Annie's.

Oh, and don't know if anyone is but if you are wondering what has happened to "An Unholy Alliance", I am busy writing it. I just need to make sure that things tie up.

And since she has been wondrously sanity checking my fic for me for the past few weeks, I should like to dedicate this story to otherhawk. Who puts up with an awful lot. And I don't think I've embarrassed her in public with effusive thanks recently so I figure it's about time. And seriously, if anyone isn't reading her "Spirit and Dust", please, please do so. Can't imagine why you wouldn't be. But it is tremendous.

Anyway. Shutting up now.

Chapter One: Opportunity

* * *

He wasn't there. He wasn't there and he should be. He should have been waiting in the park on the bench by the balloon-seller, opposite the man and the ice-cream van. He wasn't.

Rusty checked his watch again unnecessarily. Time hadn't suddenly leapt back half-an-hour. He sighed and sat down on the bench, scanning the people strolling through the park. Couples and parents and children and dogs and no Danny. No one even close to being Danny.

* * *

It had been a plan which had evolved.

It had started with a barfly falling over and knocking Rusty's drink out of his hand and Danny neatly avoiding a whisky shower. And then the man had insisted on replacing it and with an unsteady finger had waggled at both of them and told them that they were nice guys and decent sorts. They wouldn't have thrown him out on his ear after thirty years of loyal service. Just because he enjoyed visiting the drinks cabinet uninvited. And they'd agreed and smiled and then the man had said something that had made Danny's ears prick up.

"Mr Lowmen wouldn't have let me go. His son. Alexander. He's the one who had it in for me."

"William Lowmen?" Danny asked casually.

"S'right." The man was wobbling now, ever so slightly.

With a quick flick of a look in Danny's direction to check his understanding – and he was right, Danny definitely wanted to find out more – Rusty guided the man to a table and Danny had brought whisky and the three of them continued the conversation.

Morris Stevens had been employed by the Lowmen family for a good part of his life. William M Lowmen, as Danny knew and Rusty was finding out, was a rich man: a retired banker, overweight and wheezing and lucky to make the most of his super annuity. But he had three children and his sons were two in number and anxious to inherit the money, the house and the little nuggets of wealth that William M Lowmen had squirreled away. And they were eagle-eyed guardians of their daddy's fortune.

The third child, his daughter, Jen, had a different agenda.

"Wants to find Mr Right," Morris hiccoughed. "Picks 'em up and drops 'em just as quickly. She's very fussy."

Danny and Rusty's eyes met.

_She can- _

_-afford to be._

"Mr Lowmen lives on Fifth Avenue, doesn't he?" Danny asked.

"Yep. Nice big townhouse," Morris nodded. "With lots of little secrets."

"Secrets?" Rusty topped up his whisky glass.

"Yep." Morris attempted to tap the side of his nose and missed. He shrugged and took a long sip of whisky. "They've got fake paintings hanging in the hall. Do you know that? Real ones are in the vault. And Mr Lowmen owns a Jenny. Not his daughter…" There was a pause in proceedings while Morris laughed loudly. "And it isn't in the vault at all. It's in the bureau in his office. Hidden in plain view."

There were more tales of many other riches and there was description of the family – arrogant Alexander, son of a first marriage and older by a considerable degree; desperate not to be a spinster, would be patron of the arts, Jen; and Benjamin, youngest and full of Alexander hero-worship. And after a little more blinking and a little more incoherence, Morris slumped on to Rusty's shoulder and started softly snoring. Carefully, so as not to wake him, Rusty removed him and left him sitting propped up against the wall, sound asleep.

He looked at Danny who was studying the unconscious Morris.

"How did you know?" he asked and that brought Danny's gaze round to him.

"Not here."

And Rusty gave a nod. Because you could never be too careful.

* * *

Back at Danny's apartment, he shrugged his jacket off and flopped on to the couch and waited. Danny had been mostly silent on the way home and Rusty had given him space. But now was the time to share.

"I've heard of Lowmen," Danny began abruptly. "He's rich."

"How rich?"

"Rich enough to rob."

Rusty tried to read what was going on behind Danny's eyes because there was a plan, for sure, but there seemed to be something else…

"We go for the stamp."

OK. Now, Rusty was lost.

"What stamp?"

"The Jenny. The Inverted Jenny."

Rusty blinked and wondered if he should start speaking Cantonese to show Danny what it felt like.

Danny sighed.

"It's a famous and rare stamp. It's a picture of a plane that was printed upside down. It would sell for a lot on the private market."

_How do you know this?_

"Saw one once."

Rusty frowned because Danny wasn't quite meeting his eyes but he let it go. They'd known each other a little over a month and it was still early days. Especially when it came to the past.

Instead, he said, "Carter would probably be able to move it."

"Yeah," Danny nodded and there was a tinge of unspoken relief and thanks aimed at Rusty for not pursuing.

"So…?"

"We know where we want to get to and we don't need to go anywhere near the vault to get it."

Morris had talked at length about the impregnable walk-in vault built in to the cellar. It had intrigued but it sounded as if it needed more resource and more equipment and generally more of everything. This other target sounded like a quicker result.

"We need to know the layout." Rusty's brain started to engage itself. "Layout and-"

"-movement-"

"-and routine."

"We need to get into the inside."

"Jen."

"Yeah."

And with that sorted, Danny tossed the television remote control over to him.

"I'll pick up takeaway. You check out the film channels."

He had settled on "Mister Roberts" when Danny returned with Chinese and beers. They sat and watched Jimmy Cagney bully his men and Henry Fonda sacrifice his happiness for the morale of the crew and Jack Lemmon grow from Ensign Pulver into a man.

Rusty waved a fork at William Powell.

"He was in-"

"-'The Thin Man'."

"Yeah. Nick and Nora."

"And the dog."

"And the dog."

There was a silence.

"It's like 'The Pink Panther'," Danny said suddenly.

"Yes," Rusty agreed, nodding his head.

And neither of them stopped to marvel either at the fact that Danny did not need to explain he meant people thought both franchises were named after their lead characters when they weren't or the fact that Rusty understood completely or the fact that Danny realised he understood.

* * *

They found a picture of Jen in the society pages. Long hair swept up in a way that really didn't suit her and dressed starchily. Rusty had the sudden thought that this might have been a picture of a younger Beryl.

"She looks older than twenty-five," he commented.

Danny squinted at the picture.

"Think it's the hair. Or the clothes." He squinted again. "Or the face."

Rusty pursed his lips.

"We gonna lead her on?" He wanted it spelling out.

"A little," Danny acknowledged, looking guilty in a way that Rusty would later realise indicated a fight between sentiment and strategy. "We need to know what we need to know."

"Still…"

"Look at it this way. She has a most fabulous time even if it is only for a few days. Look at the picture. Doesn't she deserve that?"

Jen Lowmen stared up from the newspaper at Rusty and seemed to be on Danny's side of the argument. And it _was _short-term. And no one was going to be proposing marriage. No one was going to get hurt.

* * *

Danny engineered a meeting at the theatre, accidentally knocking the programme out of Jen's hand and retrieving it with a full charm offensive. Rusty who was watching from a short distance was partly amused and mostly exasperated to see it fail miserably.

Jen thanked Danny coldly and flounced off. Rusty saw a forlorn Danny standing looking after her and in spite of the setback, could not help the smile that floodlit his face. He was willing to bet that that had happened to Danny precisely never.

"Do I know you?"

He came to himself and found Jen stood in front of him, staring at him, blinking furiously and faintly blushing.

Chat up line. Opener. He dimmed the dazzle down to a conscious level of brightness and shook his head.

"I don't think so. But it seems we're talking now. That's almost an introduction, don't you think?"

* * *

He had met up with Danny in a bar outside and far away from the theatre and Jen.

"How did you get on?" Danny asked.

"We're going to inspect the Guggenheim together tomorrow. And don't say it," he added sharply.

"Say what?" Danny sounded innocent but that didn't stop Rusty's eyes narrowing as Danny added. "Was she good company?"

"She was…demanding. Wanted attention and lots of it. And every now and then she'd go all…" he paused searching for the word before deciding. "Girly."

"Uh-huh." Danny had started to grin. "Bit breathy? Bit Marilyn?"

Rusty gave him a hard stare.

_Don't._

_What?_

"You know what."

There was the briefest of silences before Danny spoke again.

"Oh, you mean Jen Lowmen prefers blonds?"

Rusty winced.

"Don't worry," Danny soothed. "I won't say it."

* * *

The date at the Guggenheim was over and any scruples Rusty might have had about leading Jen up the garden path had easily disappeared. He had been chivalrous and attentive and she had lapped it all up whilst at the same time finding vociferous fault with the staff, the exhibits, the other visitors…even the architecture. Rusty doubted Frank Lloyd Wright particularly cared.

Now, he was sitting cross-legged on the couch at Danny's apartment, eating pizza and telling Danny what he'd discovered.

"It's a small household and they're one down on staff with Morris's dismissal. The sons and their father lunch at their club every Tuesday and Thursday. Thursday is the cook's day off. This Thursday is the day the housemaid's sweetheart is due back on leave. This Thursday, the only person around will be Jen."

"And she won't be around for long."

"No."

"So if you take her out…"

"You should have a free run of the house."

Danny nodded.

"Won't need long."

"If you had the alarm codes you could be quicker."

Danny looked at him quizzically.

"Jen has them scribbled in the back of her diary."

_Diary…?_

Rusty shrugged. "She was looking up a day when I can go and meet the family. I spotted them. It was an easy lift."

He brushed the pizza crumbs off his fingers and picked up pen and paper, jotting down the figures.

"I found the vault code too," he said casually. "If we wanted it."

Danny hesitated.

"Whatever they have stored in there's unlikely to be portable in the way that stamp is. And it's adding time we don't need to add." He sounded regretful. "Maybe I could take a look…you never know."

Rusty continued writing and Danny studied him.

"What did she say?" he asked.

Rusty concentrated on the numbers. "About what?"

Danny smiled. Rusty knew exactly what he was talking about.

"About you. You know you checked it out."

Rusty sighed and threw an exasperated glance at Danny.

_Damn you._

"She thinks I'm cute," he said through gritted teeth.

Danny's grin was wide.

"And…?"

Rusty screwed his face up.

"And when I smile, I light up her world," he quoted. He scowled at Danny. "Happy?"

Danny's eyes were dancing with amusement at Rusty's discomfort.

"You know you could just have lied to me and said you didn't have time to read it."

Rusty's expression changed. He frowned and Danny saw that the option had never even occurred to him. The laughter died away at once and he leaned forward.

"I'm glad you didn't," he said softly.

He watched as Rusty blinked a couple of times and nodded. They were learning to accept that some things were never going to happen.

* * *

A/N: I apologise for the pun. These things just happen.


	2. Learning

Waiting by InSilva

Disclaimer: nope, didn't create any of the boys.

A/N: well, if you've read the "Celebrations" chapter (as in all of them) of "Body and Soul", you will understand where I am with this fic. And silence in that corner.

Chapter Two: Learning

* * *

It was the next morning. He phoned home and Annie answered.

"Rusty, dear!" and he smiled, feeling the love and the warmth emanating from her as she said his name.

"Hello, Annie, I was after Saul…are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Just fine. Are you back tonight? I'm making beef stew but it can stretch."

Rusty hesitated and looked over at Danny who was frowning at the back of a cornflakes packet as if seeking cooking instructions. He supposed he _had _been staying over at Danny's more and more but it hadn't seemed wrong and it hadn't seemed long. In fact, it felt just right.

Annie must have sensed the hesitation because before he could answer, she cut back in with:

"Don't worry if not. Saul said you were probably busy doing something wonderful."

_Something wonderful…_

"He's very proud of you, you know," Annie added quietly. "We both are."

"Annie…" He turned slightly away in case Danny looked up from the cereal box and saw the words and emotions flashing through him. "Annie, I…"

There was so much he wanted to say. So much that he could never express to his own satisfaction. She didn't let him struggle.

"You want Saul," she said quickly. "He's outside. I'll just go and get him."

He listened to footsteps disappearing and he pictured Saul sitting under the tree in the garden, making the most of the last days of being outside before it got too cold. There'd be bagels and coffee, no doubt and Saul would have a newspaper and without realising it, he let out a small sigh and didn't see Danny glance over.

"Rusty." It was Saul. "You OK?"

It was casual and less than casual all at the same time and Rusty could imagine a similar greeting from Saul when he was forty.

"Yeah. I just wondered if you knew whether Carter was at home."

"You got something for him?"

"Maybe." He was never going to celebrate early however straightforward a job seemed.

"He's on his yacht. He's back at the weekend. You want to know how I know this? I know this because I have an invitation to join him for drinks and a discussion about a job."

"Oh."

He tried to keep the surprise out of his voice. Of course, Saul's life was going to go on without him. Of course, Saul was going to carry on working. And he himself couldn't be in two places at once.

"You boys want to come up and join us? Carter won't mind. He was asking about you the other day."

"Maybe, Saul. It sounds nice." He kept it non-committal because plans could change and they might take longer separating the Lowmen family from one small stamp.

"Alright." There was a pause and then Saul asked, "You and Danny need anything?"

"No, thanks. We're good."

"You call me if you do." And there was the support that was always there, that had always been there.

"We will. Thanks, Saul."

As he hung up, he found Danny staring at him.

"How are they?"

"They're fine." He couldn't stop the fondness that found its way into his features. "Same as ever."

Danny nodded and smiled and there was a hint of wistfulness there that Rusty saw but didn't understand.

"Carter's back at the weekend. We've got an open invite via Saul to go see him for drinks. Saul's up there visiting."

"Carter got a job for him?"

"Yeah."

There was something in Danny's eyes. He was considering, weighing things up and Rusty knew at once what his next words were going to be.

"You want to-"

"-I've already got a job on."

They spoke at the same time. And then Rusty corrected himself. "_We've_ already got a job on."

And he knew that Danny wouldn't have minded, wouldn't have blamed him if he'd chased after whatever Saul had planned. But that wasn't what he wanted and he saw Danny relax as he saw the truth in his eyes.

"Right. Way forward."

"The way forward is going to include breakfast and since I doubt you are ever going to find your way into those cornflakes, let's go to the diner on the corner."

"You just want the milkshake."

Rusty grinned. "It's good milkshake."

* * *

Over bacon and toast and coffee and milkshake, they planned. Today was Tuesday and Thursday was following as closely behind as it ever did.

"So I'm seeing Jen for lunch today," Rusty said.

"You're gonna take her flowers."

"I guess. But not roses."

"Too cliché."

"Something different."

"Something she'll treasure. What about lilies?"

Rusty brushed his thumb across his lips. "Something wilder."

Danny looked amused. "Is this the image you're going for?"

"Lilies are too formal. Needs to be softer and…" he broke off with a shrug. "I'll know it when I see it. Anyway. One good thing. At least this job will be over with before I actually have to meet the family."

Jen had come up with a date in the middle of the next week and he had agreed readily to it on the clear understanding that he would not be keeping it. The understanding was clear to him at least. He planned to let Jen down gently on the Friday. Already he was rehearsing the "It's not you, it's me" speech. Although, "I only went out with you in order to work a con" would probably have the desired effect too.

* * *

Purple and pink and white lisianthus and Jen had loved them as much as she had loved lunch. Actually, she had loved the flowers more than the food which she had sent back twice. And she had dropped the bombshell just after the main course which meant that for once, Rusty didn't order dessert.

"Tomorrow night," he said as Danny opened the door. "She's organised a meal at her house tomorrow night. With the rest of her family."

Danny swore vividly and Rusty nodded.

"Exactly."

"You could-"

"-by tomorrow?"

As one, they shook their heads.

"It puts you in the frame," Danny frowned. "I mean I doubt they're going to notice immediately but if they do, they might start thinking about strangers and that means they might…"

"Well, they'd be looking for Richard Carrick who lives over in Greenwich."

"Yeah. I'd rather they weren't looking for you at all." He looked at Rusty. "Have you changed your cover story at all?"

Rusty looked offended.

"I'm twenty, I'm the son of a successful property magnate and I'm going to gain full access to my trust fund when I am twenty-three."

Danny nodded and then his eyes narrowed.

"What else?"

"I studied at Oxford," Rusty said unwillingly.

"Oxford." Neutral.

"Yeah. Fine Art."

"And what? You were sent home in disgrace and didn't finish your degree?"

"Don't be ridiculous." A pause. "I decided I would give serious thought to the tennis."

"The tennis."

"Uh-huh. I'm considering turning pro."

"Uh-huh. And where did that idea come from?"

Rusty shrugged. "Richard knows Jimmy Connors. Old friend of the family. Jimmy encouraged him."

"Sorry to bring you back to the real world, Walter, but was any of this remotely necessary?"

Rusty scratched his ear. "Saul says the bigger the lie, the more willing people are to believe. So long as you sell it well, they're not confident enough to dispute it." He sighed. "Plus I got bored."

_You are incredible._

_Thank you._

"OK. We don't steal the Jenny."

"We don't?"

"We swap it. I'll find a copy and I'll leave it behind."

"Where are you going to find a copy? By Thursday?"

"Not a perfect replica but they sell copies of the stamp for collectors."

Rusty looked at him. This knowledge sounded a little too firsthand.

"You used to collect stamps."

Danny looked a little torn between letting Rusty draw conclusions and actually explaining.

"My tutor did."

Rusty blinked at him hard. Danny shrugged.

"His hobby. It formed part of the geography lesson. Actually I think it was just a way to get me to stick the damn stamps in the album for him."

Rusty was still staring because the stamp-collecting had dropped way down the list of things he wanted to know about.

"You had a tutor."

"Daddy was rich and mamma's good-looking," Danny said lightly and there was some truth and more than a little pain wrapped up in there.

"Anyway," Danny moved the subject away and onwards. "If you're eating in, you need to know…" He hesitated. "You need to be able to handle the cutlery."

"You think I'd eat with my fingers?"

"I think Richard Carrick would know how to eat lobster. And snails. And-"

"Snails?" Rusty's eyes were round.

Danny sighed.

"We'll go to the Four Seasons tonight. I know the maitre d' and I'll ask him to organise a crash course."

_Snails?_

"Jimmy probably serves them all the time," Danny pointed out sweetly.

* * *

They stood outside the hotel where people were walking in and out with a general air of noli me tangere. Danny looked at Rusty who was taking in the lavish and the splendour and who seemed a little tense. Well, that was understandable. These damn places were as intimidating as hell. Moving within them required confidence and self-assurance and to look as if anyone who challenged you would get short shrift.

"It's just a ludicrous place," he said trying to take the awe out of the situation, trying to reassure Rusty who was staring unblinking at the doors and the foyer and the columns beyond. "It's all about the excess. The bedrooms are all-"

"-silk sheets and champagne," Rusty finished flatly. "Yeah. I can imagine."

There was something…Danny frowned and part of him was suddenly back on a beach where things had been said and things had been implied and things hadn't been denied and…

"C'mon," Rusty said firmly and he led the way up into the hotel.

Danny was a half-step behind and he saw Rusty move, full of grace and poise and self-assured, withering the doorman with a look and the trail of thought disappeared to be replaced with amusement and admiration.

* * *

"Paul!" Danny clasped the maitre d' by the hand. "It's good to see you again."

"Danny…so nice to see you too. And your friend?"

Introductions were made and hands were shaken and then Paul led the way to a private dining room laid up with two places.

"I have arranged for a selection of dishes to be brought. Let me call for the first."

He stepped outside and Rusty looked at a bewildering array of silverware and glasses and exhaled and then looked over at Danny.

"You can do this," Danny said, his eyes radiating belief and assurance.

Rusty took a deep breath and nodded. Because even if he might doubt himself, he didn't doubt Danny.

Paul was an excellent instructor.

"This glass is for the red wine, this for the white, this is the water goblet..."

"…fish knife, steak knife, butter knife…"

"…oyster fork, dessert fork…"

"…soup spoon. Soup is generally hot but occasionally can be cold, though that's more of a summer thing..."

Caviar and lobster and prawns were carried in by waiters full of deference, heads bowed, hands moving with precision over the white table linen with crockery in exactly the same way Rusty handled cards.

Steak was brought and Paul went through the shades from blue to well done.

"…lamb may be served pink but chicken should not be. If it is, it means-"

"-food poisoning," Danny supplied.

Desserts appeared and Rusty's smile faded as he realised there were more lessons.

"…crème anglaise, not custard…"

"…use your dessert fork _and _your spoon…"

Paul produced a bottle of port.

"…and this is always passed to the left…"

As the last dish was cleared away, Rusty looked over at Danny.

"You know all this already?"

Danny shrugged. "Some of it. If in doubt, start on the outside of the cutlery and work your way in."

He turned to Paul. "Thank you so much for your help, Paul."

"Do not mention it, Danny. After your help last year, it is the least I could do."

"Thank you, Paul," Rusty added. "It's been a real education."

* * *

Back at Danny's, Rusty flopped down on the couch, his brain whirling with images of fish roe and lobster claws and claret and dipping a soup spoon away from you and… Danny pushed a glass of whisky into his hand.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome."

Danny sat down in the easy chair and stretched his legs out in front of him.

"The food and drink are gonna be the easy part," he said quietly.

Rusty swivelled his head and looked at him.

_They are?_

"Jen's father and brothers," Danny said heavily. "A real lions' den."

Rusty gave a half-smile.

"Not going to welcome me with open arms, then."

"Not likely." Danny was silent for a moment. "They'll give you a rough ride."

The half-smile faded away.

"They'll dig at you," Danny said. "They'll be snide and snobbish and they'll do their best to make you feel uncomfortable."

"It's their territory."

"It is. And they'll make the most of it." Danny's mouth set tight. "Damn it, Rus!"

His brows drew down and Rusty was suddenly reading a vast well of protectiveness and he wasn't sure what surprised him more: the need to defend or the limitless on offer. He sat up.

"Danny, I can take care of myself. You don't have to worry."

Danny shot him a brief smile.

"Of course, you can. Of course, I know you can."

And Rusty saw that nothing he could say was going to take the worry away.


	3. Face

Waiting by InSilva

Disclaimer: do not own the boys.

A/N: um, mature but inexplicit themes touched on here. Sigh.

Chapter Three: Face

* * *

"_I'm here to see my uncle. Mr Martin Wilding."_

_The lie does not even need to be sold. The concierge is smiling knowingly and nodding and Rusty clamps down on the yearning to punch the smile into the middle of next week. _

"_Of course, sir. Mr Wilding is expecting you. The Rembrandt Suite. Twentieth floor."_

_He moves in clothes that are new and not his. MacAvoy has been very explicit on this point. He walks past guests and staff and steps into an elevator that is taking him swiftly and effortlessly closer to yet another night in hell. _

_The man in the bathrobe who opens the door is middle-aged and unexceptional in every way except that he smells rich. He looks Rusty over and smiles approvingly. _

"_Come on in."_

_He catches sight of himself in the full length mirror. MacAvoy is charging a sizeable fee for his services on the basis that money is not going to be an object. Therefore, MacAvoy has insisted he make the effort. He is washed and scrubbed and clean. Temporarily._

"_Champagne?"_

"_No, thank you."_

_No alcohol. Never any alcohol. Losing control was way too dangerous._

_He is still standing near the doorway and the man beckons him over to him. He feels fingers lock into his hair and he sees the kiss happening a second before it does. He turns slightly and the man's lips land on his cheek. __Just for a second, the man is taken aback. Rusty is certain that it has been a while since things did not go the way he wanted. Eyes are on him and he keeps his gaze lowered. Compliant. Submissive. Hating himself for it._

_The fingers twist in his hair again and then there is a hand tipping his chin up and turning his face from side to side in the soft light. He bites his lip and suffers the touch. As much as he doesn't want any of it, he needs this to happen. Finally, there is a grunt of approval and he is unsure whether the man is pleased with his lack of further defiance or the supposed willingness._

"_You want to put your clothes over there then come and join me in bed."_

_He goes to the chair indicated and pulls the clothes from his body, forcing himself to fold them neatly, mindful of MacAvoy's threat to charge him for them if they cannot be returned to the shop. __He walks towards the bed and then the man's voice stops him._

"_You're beautiful. You really are."_

_He blinks. _

"_I like surrounding myself with beauty. I find owning it so uplifting."_

_Still he does not know what to say. The man pats the sheets._

"_Let me show you what I mean."_

Rusty kept his eyes closed and pushed the memory down and away. Hotels were hotels were hotels. He had to learn to deal.

He sighed. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

_It was supposed to be over his head. They ignored him as they always did, as they always tried to. And still, he sat in silence at the long table in the large room through insufferable dinner after insufferable dinner and he saw what they were doing. _

_Guests that they had brought. Girls they were dating, boys that they knew. And they never lost an opportunity to make them feel awkward, to show them their social inferiority. It was all about the power. He worked that out very early on. Careless cruelty. Because they could._

Still lost in memory, Danny lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

The knock on his door woke Rusty.

"I brought you coffee," Danny said unnecessarily, pushing the mug into his hand as he sat up.

Rusty stared at him.

"You look like shit."

Danny flashed him a smile. "You been working on your charm again?"

"What is it?"

"Rough night," Danny shrugged and turned around and left and Rusty opened his mouth to call after him then closed it again. He would find out. Sooner or later.

* * *

By the time they were sat in the diner and Danny had pushed the same piece of bacon round his plate for ten minutes, Rusty had had enough. The silence was deafening. Danny was closed off and unreadable and he couldn't bear it.

"Danny." Not taking any nonsense.

Danny looked up and his gaze wavered and there was a glimpse of Danny in there and then the barrier came back down.

"You should go after that job with Carter and Saul," he said abruptly and then turned his attention to his breakfast plate once more.

Rusty stared at him. Whatever he had expected, he hadn't expected that. He tapped a finger shrewdly on his bottom lip and decided to go on the offensive.

"You don't think I can do it."

"What?" Danny looked startled.

"You think I'm going to screw up. You think I can't remember which glass is which."

"No-"

"You think I'm going to ask for the port instead of waiting for it to be passed to me."

"Don't be-"

"I can do it, Danny. You can trust me."

"I know I-"

"I won't mess up. I promise I won't-"

"It's not you!"

It came out louder than it should have done and attracted a few half-interested stares before people went back about their business.

"It's not you," Danny repeated in a quieter tone but just as intensely.

"I know it's not," Rusty agreed. "So do you want to tell me what you don't want to tell me?"

Danny let out a long breath and gave him a glare. Rusty weathered it: he didn't care about playing fair; he wanted an answer.

"It's personal," Danny sighed. "It's personal and I should have told you."

"Yes, you should've," Rusty nodded slowly but without blame and Danny accepted the rebuke that wasn't.

"The Jenny is rare and valuable."

"So you said."

"The Jenny that is in the Lowmen family's possession was my father's."

Rusty blinked at him.

"We were rich," Danny said flatly.

_How rich were you?_

"Rich enough." He took a drink of coffee and Rusty's eyes asked many questions. With a sigh, he answered one of them. "Alexander Lowmen."

"The brother."

Danny nodded. "He's about the same age as my brothers. My half-brothers," he corrected himself.

Rusty said nothing and waited.

_

* * *

_

It was the summer before he was to start school proper. His tutor had been dismissed and he had a whole wardrobe of uniform and a pile of new books and he couldn't remember when he had been this excited.

"_School will be the making of you, I am sure," Luis had smiled. "So much to learn."_

"_We will miss you, Danny," Maria had said and then there had been tears that Danny would tell people had all come from Maria._

_This was his last free summer. His last time to explore and to imagine and to think aloud and not care if people followed him or not. He knew that Things Were Expected even if things were never said. And he would be staying away for most of the school vacations to concentrate on making sure that the Expected Things came to fruition._

_He didn't much mind about the staying away. Except that it meant less time to be spent with Luis and Maria and he would miss them like fury._

_Cole and Randall had a guest staying. A boy – a man - they had met at their club. He carried himself with an air of insolence that could only be carried off by the wealthy. From what Danny had seen of him, Alexander Lowmen was a perfect example of everything he found Cole and Randall to be. Obnoxious, self-serving and supercilious. _

_The one thing Danny had found amusing was Cole and Randall's unsuccessful attempts at one-upmanship. Alexander held his own. And if he had not behaved with detestable manners towards Luis and Maria, Danny might have found it hard to dislike him as much as he deserved. As it was, Danny had no problem at all._

* * *

"He is a bastard," Danny said. "He is…he is a have not."

Something flippant hovered on Rusty's lips but it died at once because this was serious and this was in earnest.

_

* * *

_

His father was in bed. His father had taken to his bed a lot lately. His mother had retired in the early evening. Someone should have told him to go to bed too but he had been forgotten. He had had a happy evening in the kitchen with cards and cakes and now he was yawning and heading for bed.

_The light was on under his father's study door and there was drunken laughter. Curious and suddenly awake, he edged closer. The door was slightly ajar and he peered through the gap._

_Cole was holding court and showing off. Busy enumerating the many pieces of wealth and fortune that their father owned. _

"_Silver mine down in South America," he boasted. "Not a bad yield though I will probably sell it."_

"_Silver can be such a volatile commodity," Alexander suggested, sipping his whisky. _

"_The Gauguin's real," Cole jerked his head towards the painting Danny knew hung over the fireplace. "Randall picked it up for an absolute song last year."_

"_House sale," Randall supplied unseen. Sitting on the couch in the corner for a guess._

"_Hope you drove a hard bargain," Alexander smiled._

"_Had them weeping," Randall replied._

"_Father has no idea about investment. He insists things like this are worthwhile."_

_Cole fished about in a drawer and brought up an envelope which he tossed to Alexander for inspection._

"_It's a Ginny or something. Misprint. Father thinks it's going to hold its value."_

_A Jenny. An Inverted Jenny. Danny had heard Mark talk fondly about the rarity of the stamp and Danny had seen the fake one in his collection. And there was actually one right here in the house and Danny had had no idea. _

_They were worth considerable money. Danny knew that much and his father had obviously known as well and looking at Alexander's suddenly acquisitive eyes, he knew too. Cole, predictably, hadn't got a clue._

"_It's a curious thing," Alexander said, handing the envelope back to Cole. "A real piece of eccentricity."_

_He knew its worth. Danny could see. And he could see that Alexander wanted it._

* * *

"He was smart enough not to lift it then and there. Not to make it obvious that he wanted it either. If he had, Cole would have smelt it."

"What did he do?"

Danny looked at him. "He conned them."

_

* * *

_

It was the next evening and once again, he had been left to his own devices. He had eaten with Luis and Maria and now he was curled up with "Treasure Island" on the couch in the library.

_His mind full of Jim Hawkins and the Hispaniola and treasure and Ben Gunn, he didn't immediately hear the door open. When he realised, he shrank down on the couch. He was up past his bedtime and he was certain that somewhere along the line either Luis or Maria would get the blame._

_Cole and Randall and Alexander. He heard their voices and he tried to bury himself down further: he could hear the sneer in Cole's voice and he could see the cold resentment in Randall's eyes if he were found. Even in front of Alexander. Especially in front of Alexander._

"_Let's have a game of cards," Cole hiccoughed and Danny silently groaned._

_Drunk. And when Cole was drunk, it was less about spiteful words and more about a cuff or two to remind Danny about his place in life. _

"_Great idea," Alexander agreed and Danny heard the chairs being drawn out at the little card table._

"_Five card draw?" Randall asked and the game started._

* * *

"Don't know how long it went on. Couldn't tell you. Didn't dare look at first and then they all got caught up in the hands of cards."

* * *

_He had squinted over the top of the couch and watched. After a while, three things were very obvious. Cole and Randall were extremely drunk. Alexander was winning by a mile. And Alexander was cheating._

* * *

"Dealing from the bottom of the deck. Clumsily. I swear at one point there were five aces on the table."

_

* * *

_

_It was so much later and he wanted to be upstairs in his room and well away from what was happening except that he could not take his eyes off the scene unfolding in front of him._

"_I win again," Alexander said softly and Cole laughed._

"_How much do we owe you now?"_

_Alexander frowned and pretended to calculate the five figure sum._

"_Good God!" said Randall. "Enough to buy you a yacht."_

"_I do like sailing," Alexander said, adding quietly, "and I will take a cheque."_

_The atmosphere around the table changed in an instant. Danny saw Cole sobering up fast, the quicker of the two of them to understand._

"_Cheque?" Randall blinked stupidly at Alexander._

"_Yes. Or a banker's draft. I really don't mind."  
_

"_We don't have that sort of ready money!" Randall exclaimed with a laugh. "Tell him, Cole!"  
_

_Danny watched a silent conversation going on between Cole and Alexander that spoke of honour and face and some sort of code that couldn't be broken._

"_Well, that's awkward if that's the case," Alexander said smoothly, his eyes not leaving Cole's._

_Cole said nothing._

_Alexander pursed his lips. "I suppose I could always take something in kind."_

"_Like what?" Cole's words rapped out across the table and Danny jumped._

_Alexander gave a lazy smile._

"_That stamp was pretty. It's my father's birthday next week and it's the sort of thing he'd like. Not our kind of thing, after all."_

"_The stamp? That stupid stamp?" Randall's voice was full of relief. "He can have that, can't he?"_

_Cole was going to agree. Danny knew it. God knew he had no love for either Cole or Randall but the anticipation on Alexander's face was tangible and Cole was going to…_

"_He was cheating!"_

_The words exploded from him and all three of them leapt to their feet._

"_God, it's the little bastard," Randall muttered. "Scared the life out of me."_

"_Get out here!" Cole snarled and reluctantly, Danny left the sanctuary of his hiding place and stood in front of the table._

"_He was cheating, Cole," he said in a low voice. "I saw him. You don't owe him anything."_

_He saw Alexander stand a little straighter and he stared angrily at green eyes that were suddenly worried._

"_Shut up, you little fool," Cole snapped. _

"_It's true!" Danny was indignant. "He dealt from the bottom of the-"_

_Cole's hand connected with the side of his head and he let out a cry._

"_I said shut up," Cole hissed. "You do not insult a guest like that."_

_He blinked at Cole through the sharp pain._

"_But he did," he whispered, not understanding why Cole wouldn't believe him._

_There was another smack to the side of his head and he stumbled forward._

"_Randall, get the stamp," Cole instructed and Danny saw the smug smile on Alexander's face that meant he knew he had won._

_He had to try one last time to make Cole believe._

"_Cole, I promise I am not lying. He cheated you. Check the deck. Look at his sleeves."_

_And Cole's eyes shifted and suddenly he saw that Cole knew he was telling the truth. Knew without a shadow of a doubt that Alexander had conned him. But he would not lose face by challenging his guest. Instead, he was going to play a ridiculous game of etiquette where the only winner was going to be Alexander._

"_Oh, you are so stupid!" _

_The words were out before he could stop them and the flash of rage in Cole's eyes made him brace himself for another blow that never came._

"_Go to your room," Cole ordered._

_He threw a final angry glance at Alexander and left, passing Randall in the doorway who was clutching the envelope with the stamp on it._

"_Here it is, Alexander. All debts cancelled?"_

"_Of course."_

* * *

"I thought it would be fitting if we took the stamp back. But that was when all one of us had to do was wine and dine Jen and all the other had to do was steal the damn thing."

"Alexander." Rusty knew exactly what had happened to tip the balance in Danny. Danny had spent the night chasing thoughts and memories around his head.

"He's…Rusty, I don't want you near him."

They were back to the protective and Rusty appreciated that, he really did. It was strange and amazing and he knew without asking himself that it was reciprocated, wholeheartedly and just as naturally and just as illogically. But Danny needed perspective and the personal was clouding his judgment.

"Danny, I'm not going to be stealing the damn stamp tonight. It's only a dinner party. What's the worst that can happen? I use the wrong knife?"

Danny's eyes were hesitant.

"We go ahead as planned. Maybe with a few more precautions on your part."

"It's not your fight," Danny said with one last stab at keeping Rusty out of things.

"It is now," Rusty smiled, sitting back in his chair and the argument was dead in the water.

* * *

A/N: apologies to FloraFlower. I told you this was going to have the dinner party in. You probably noticed it didn't. I am thinking next chapter but who can tell?


	4. Manners

Waiting by InSilva

Disclaimer: Not mine…

Chapter Four: Manners

* * *

Hot dog in hand, Rusty sat in the park, staring at the little plastic bag with the stamp they had just acquired. It was a picture of an upside-down biplane.

"How do they know it's a mistake?" he frowned.

Danny bit into his own hot dog and raised his eyebrows.

"Maybe it's just flying upside down."

Danny grinned. "Maybe. Or maybe the picture's the right way up and the writing round the edge is upside down."

_Yeah._

Rusty took a bite of hot dog and a trickle of ketchup hit his chin. He felt it land and as he glanced down at both occupied hands, a napkin wiped the sauce away. He smiled his thanks.

"Gonna have to watch my table manners tonight."

Danny's face grew serious. "It's not too late."

"Danny…" Rusty was shaking his head.

"You could be ill or you could have been called out of town or you could have a sick grandmother-"

"_Danny._" Rusty's expression was one of amused exasperation. "I have to take Jen out tomorrow for lunch. If I duck out of tonight, she might duck out of tomorrow. No illness, no out of town and no sick relatives."

Danny sighed and took a savage bite of hot dog.

"It would have been better if it had been me." He looked quickly at Rusty.

_Not because-_

_I know._

"And it would have been _easier_ if it had been you," Rusty corrected. "But maybe it's better that it's me. Don't you think Alexander would recognise you?"

Danny frowned and thought for a moment.

"Doubt it. I was ten."

Rusty looked at him thoughtfully. At the dark eyes that could flash with passion and intensity and which he knew even on one meeting he would have difficulty forgetting. He imagined Danny at ten. It seemed unlikely he would have been any different.

Danny's frown deepened.

"What are you going to wear?"

"Well, I thought I'd wear something." Rusty looked down at his suit and shirt. "You don't think this says outrageously rich with prospects?"

"You're gonna need a tux."

"Really?" Rusty was sceptical. "For a meal at home?"

Danny's lips were tight. "It's an old trick. Someone gets invited and it's casual and spontaneous and immediate. You turn up and it's a formal dinner and you're stood there in a suit and everyone else is in evening dress."

_Oh…_

_Yeah, oh._

"No one says anything, of course. No one needs to."

No. Rusty could see how that would work. Out of place before you even started.

"C'mon, Cinderella," Danny smiled.

Lunch over, they got to their feet and Rusty pocketed the stamp. He gave Danny a little half-grin.

"If I'm Cinders, wouldn't that make you-"

"-that sentence had better not be ending the way I think it is."

Rusty chuckled and they headed out of the park.

* * *

Richard Carrick looked out of the mirror at him. Blond, blue-eyed and dressed to kill. Dressed to con, at least. He fingered the bow tie.

"Leave it alone."

Rusty sighed and ran a hand over his chin. "You think I should have grown a beard? Or a moustache? A little pencil moustache?"

"Very "Thin Man"."

"It would have made me look older." He squinted and tried to see what wasn't there. He sighed again and shook his head. "I should have grown a beard."

Danny looked over his shoulder at his reflection.

"No beards. Trust me on this one."

Rusty's fingers strayed to the bow tie again.

"Leave it alone."

They stood for a moment and looked at Richard Carrick.

"I reckon I could pass for him." Off-hand.

Danny's eyebrows were raised. "Who?"

"Bond."

He held himself straighter and looked dispassionately at the way the material flowed over his body. Danny had insisted on hiring the tux from a top of the range tailor and Rusty was trying on a top of the range suit. Rusty figured James wouldn't go out in anything less.

The smile was wide on Danny's face.

"You want me to leave while you practise the gun barrel pose?"

He couldn't help the little tell-tale flicker in his eyes and Danny leaned back against the wall of the changing room, his eyes alive with amusement.

"So how did it go?"

Rusty shrugged nonchalantly. "I told you. I could pass for him."

"There's never gonna be a blond Bond."

"Never say never."

"Alright, James, have it your way. Let's take this one."

* * *

They moved on to other details and still wearing the evening dress, Rusty looked at the coat and scarf and shoes and hesitated, torn between the expense and the necessity.

"Try them on," Danny suggested.

Rusty eased his way into the cashmere coat and the fine silk scarf hung round his neck. Soft leather enclosed his feet. He was wearing the most expensive outfit he had ever worn in his life. He looked at himself in the mirror.

"How does it feel?" Danny asked quietly.

Rusty shrugged. "I could get used to it." He peered again at the mirror. "Richard Carrick is more than used to it."

Saul said that clothes and props helped enhance the character. Already, he had his left hand ready to gesticulate to make a point, his chin tilted up slightly haughtily. Richard Carrick was ready.

* * *

Danny sat on the couch, staring unseeing at the soap opera on the television and fought the urge to go and sit outside the Lowmen family townhouse and stare at the front door instead.

Rusty had stepped into the private limousine half an hour ago and Danny had smiled and radiated confidence and had done his best to bury the feeling that was busy knotting through him. The feeling that Rusty was walking willingly into a room of knives. Oh, no actual blood would be drawn. The knives would be polite and coldly friendly and oh, so very vicious.

"_Remember you need to be-" _

"_-a rich bastard." Rusty nodded. "I got it."_

Danny told himself he was being absurd. Rusty wasn't helpless. Rusty could handle himself. Rusty wasn't a lamb headed to the slaughter. Rusty was intelligent and able to think on his feet like lightning and…Danny sighed and cursed silently. Any sign of someone standing up for themselves and family would close ranks. And that would leave Rusty, already the outsider, even further distant.

* * *

The limousine ride had been luxurious and disconcertingly smooth and not a little nausea inducing. It was like he imagined sailing to be.

Now, he was handing his newly purchased coat and scarf over to the maid and taking in the entrance hall with its elegant white marble staircase on the lefthand side and the marble floor which sounded under his heels as he walked slowly forward, drinking in every detail.

The paintings – the fake paintings, according to Morris the disgruntled and the dismissed – were huge, gloomy canvases apart from a bright little landscape. There was a hall table at the foot of the stairs with a large, empty silver bowl on it. Rusty wondered what it was for. It looked like a church collection plate but that didn't seem likely. He was certain Danny would have mentioned it if he was expected to leave a tip. A grandfather clock stood against the wall, solemnly ticking and there were doors off. The far ones must lead to the kitchen and the cellar. He was being led towards the double doors on the room which overlooked the street and which must be…

…front drawing room.

"Richard!" Jen's delight was rich and she lashed her arm through his to draw him into the room.

The first thing he saw was that Danny had been right. The three men were in evening dress: Jen was wearing a blue halter-neck silk gown. If he hadn't been dressed as he was, he would already be feeling awkward. As it was, Richard Carrick stood tall and walked casually forward to meet and greet.

"This is my father, William Lowmen. Daddy, this is Richard Carrick."

"Pleased to meet you, sir."

"And you, Richard." The well-built man with grey hair dropped Rusty's hand and disappeared into a coughing fit, burying his face in a silk handkerchief and waving away any concern.

Part of Rusty was busy wondering whether a cotton handkerchief might not be more practical when a hand was thrust in front of him.

"You're dating my little sister," came the lazy drawl and he looked at a man in his forties, green eyes looking askance from under a mop of still mostly dark brown hair.

Rusty accepted the handshake and immediately the pressure in the handshake increased. As if it was a contest. It put him in mind of another handshake not so long ago. He kept his smile friendly and unfazed.

"Name's Richard Carrick."

"I'm Alexander. This is my kid brother, Benjamin."

Alexander released his hand and it was gripped by a shorter, stockier young man – about his own age, Rusty realised with a start.

"How do you do?" Benjamin asked abruptly. He wasn't anywhere near as sophisticated as his brother in the way he carried himself.

"Nice to meet both of you," Rusty said when he could reclaim his hand.

"Expect Jen's told you all about us," Alexander suggested lightly.

The glib agreement froze on Rusty's lips. Jen had told him precious little about her family. He had a nasty feeling that Alexander had some supplementary questions that would expose this fact.

"To be honest, Alexander, Jen and I only met a couple of days ago. We're still busy finding out about each other." He patted Jen's arm affectionately.

A flash of disappointment was in Alexander's eyes and out again as Jen giggled at his side.

"There's lots we haven't told one another," she said archly and then added, "Aren't you going to offer Richard a drink?"

"Of course. Where are my manners? What would you like?"

Beer was out. Wine would be served with the meal. Whisky seemed too strong for an aperitif.

"Whatever you're having, Alexander," he replied easily.

There was a nod in Benjamin's direction and the younger brother disappeared in the direction of a sideboard.

"Jen here tells us your family's into property," William said, as Benjamin returned with a cocktail glass of mystery contents.

"That's right, sir," Rusty nodded, thanking Benjamin with a smile. "My father has a company that specialises in condominiums in Florida."

"Ah, Florida," Alexander pounced. "Vacation destination for the common man."

The sneer was overt and sharp and Rusty smiled.

"You can find the uncommon man in Florida, too."

"Really? I thought the Sunshine State was all sticky candyfloss and plebeian retirement plans."

"Money to be made out of everyone's dreams, Alexander," he said lightly.

"Well said," William applauded and Rusty wondered briefly if the worst thing that could happen this evening was if the family liked him.

He took a sip of the drink in his hand and his mouth was flooded with what tasted like raw alcohol. He kept the emotion off his face and glanced down at the glass.

"What are we drinking, by the way?"

"Vodka martini," Alexander explained. "My own recipe."

"You'll have to let me have it."

"Do you like it? It's usually an acquired taste."

"Oh, it's definitely memorable."

Warned this time, he took an even smaller sip. The stuff had to be several percent proof. He felt the scrutiny from Alexander, watching for reaction, who seemed satisfied by the tiny inroads Rusty was making into the drink. There was no handy potted plant to hide the contents and he was certain Alexander would have refilled his glass in any case.

Rusty gritted his teeth and took another mouthful and saw the amusement in Alexander's eyes. He let the heat slip abrasively down his throat and decided on distraction. He turned and smiled at Jen.

"I haven't told you yet how lovely you look tonight, Jen," he told her.

She blushed and there was the girlish giggle again and he pulled her hand up and pressed his lips to it.

As he did so, Rusty carefully and casually studied the other men and saw three things. Jen's father did not care one iota about Jen's happiness: there was no smiling indulgence of a favourite on display; he was as dry as his perpetual cough. Benjamin was useless at hiding his emotion: the scowl on his face was deep and evident. And Rusty caught a fleeting glimpse of unguarded fury on Alexander's face that told him Jen's big brother was not at all anxious for her to find a significant someone. It almost made him feel sorry for Jen.

* * *

Television had proved a useless distraction. He had switched it off and was laying stretched out on the couch, wondering if he could have done more to prepare Rusty and wishing that it would all be over and that Rusty was back safe in the apartment.

He closed his eyes. Maybe Alexander had changed. Maybe he wasn't what he had been twelve years ago. Yeah. Maybe.

_He'd come down to breakfast the next day to find the dining room deserted except for Alexander, sat at the long table with coffee and toast and a newspaper._

_Danny stood in the doorway and glared at him. Alexander looked up with a lazy smile that spoke of victory and absolutely nothing Danny could do about it. Then Maria appeared behind him._

"_Go and sit down, Danny, I'll bring you breakfast."_

_He sat down opposite Alexander and reached for the jug of orange juice. He poured himself a glass and drank it in angry silence as Alexander sat across the wide expanse of white linen and read the financial section. _

_For a while, all there was was the turning of the broadsheet pages and then Maria appeared with a plate of bacon and tomatoes and put it down in front of Danny._

"_Thanks, Maria," he smiled up at her and she gave his shoulder a little squeeze of affection._

_He picked up his knife and fork and saw Alexander watching him thoughtfully before turning his attention back to the paper._

"_I'm out of coffee."_

_The words stretched out into the room. He looked up at Alexander, still busy reading and saw Maria, who was nearly at the door, stop and turn round._

_The coffee pot was inches away from Alexander. It would take no effort at all for Alexander to reach out and…but, no. No. He was making Maria come back and pour it. Danny gritted his teeth._

"_Of course, sir."_

_Maria walked back and Alexander smoothed out the paper and sat back as Maria picked up the coffee pot. Danny saw Alexander glance over at him and then up at Maria. And then…_

…_there was a hiss from Maria and Danny saw outrage on her face and the hand not holding the coffee pot flew towards Alexander. Alexander grabbed her arm before it could connect and held it for a long moment._

_Sitting the other side, all Danny could see was the fury that was barely being held on to, a body being held rigid, a whole undercurrent that he didn't understand…_

"_Maria…?" he asked, his voice rising with concern._

_Maria's arm immediately went limp and the fury was no longer shown. Alexander's eyes were still on hers._

"_Let go of her," Danny shouted, dropping his knife and fork and jumping to his feet._

"_Tell him it's OK," Alexander suggested._

"_It's OK, Danny," Maria told him and she threw a warm, reassuring glance across the table at him._

_He hesitated and then Alexander released Maria's arm with that same casual smile._

"_As if I could possibly be interested in you," Alexander said with disdain. "Pour the coffee and get out."  
_

_Danny bit his lip as Maria did as she was told._

"_She's-you shouldn't-Maria's-" Righteous anger burst from him._

"_You can be quiet," Alexander said venomously. "Little bastard."_

_Danny flushed and then the door opened and Cole came in. _

"_God, I drank too much last night. My head is going to explode. Where's the coffee?"_

"_Let me pour you a cup," Alexander offered._

_Danny threw him an angry glance and then glared at Cole before running out of the room in search of Maria._

_She was stood at the sink as he barrelled into the kitchen. She span on her heel and frowned at him in warning. Danny saw Luis sitting by the back door, cleaning shoes. _

"_Are you alright?" he whispered hoarsely, looking at the livid finger marks on her arm. _

"_I am fine, Danny." She pulled down her sleeve._

"_He hurt you."  
_

"_I'm fine. It's nothing."_

_It wasn't nothing. Danny could tell it wasn't nothing. But Maria was smiling down at him and he sighed helplessly and threw his arms round her in a fierce hug. And if she returned the hug as if she never wanted to let go, that was alright by him._

Danny opened his eyes and got off the couch and poured himself a whisky. He gripped the glass and thought of what he now was certain he had missed seeing when he was ten. Of Alexander, reading the relationship between Maria and himself. Of Alexander, abusing his position as guest. Of Alexander's hand, unseen, running up Maria's leg, under her skirt, gripping her thigh…

He took a swig of whisky and his lips tightened. Rusty's return could not come a moment too soon.

* * *

A/N: Don't. Say. A. Word.


	5. Appearances

Waiting by InSilva

Disclaimer: so not mine.

Chapter Five: Appearances

* * *

He had just finished the vile Martini when the door opened and the maid dropped a curtsey and stutteringly announced that dinner was served. They walked through to a formal dining room, high ceilinged and chandeliered and a long table, crisply tableclothed and laid with silver and fine crystal.

William Lowmen took his place at the head, Alexander on his right. Benjamin sat next to his brother as Rusty first pulled out Jen's chair and then took his own seat next to her, opposite Alexander. Soup began to be served.

This was stifling. Rusty wanted to loosen his collar and breathe. This was as far away from a meal at Saul and Annie's as he could imagine. The formality spiked through the air. And Danny had grown up in this, he suddenly realised. Danny had sat for hundreds and thousands of meals like this. Starchy and restricting and inhibiting.

Rusty thought about what Danny had revealed about his past. Even from the little he'd heard, Rusty could see how it had been for Danny. Ignored by his family. His brothers – _half-_brothers – who were no brothers to him at all. Who treated him like…like he was beneath their notice. That made Rusty want to cry out. Because even on such short acquaintance, he knew how special Danny was. He could sense the depth of feeling in Danny, the sensitivity and the intensity and he could picture him as a little boy with so very much to share and those who should have realised, should have been closest were furthest away.

He realised with a start that Alexander was addressing him.

"I'm sorry?"

A quick smile of disdain flashed on to Alexander's lips and away again.

"I asked if you would pass the salt."

Salt and pepper. You passed the salt and the pepper. Never just the one condiment. He did so and then looked down at the bowl of vivid green in front of him. With trepidation, he picked up his soup spoon and there was a meaningful cough from Alexander.

Fuck. No one else had cutlery in their hands.

"We generally say a short grace," Alexander smiled and Rusty smiled tightly back, replacing the soup spoon.

"For what we are about to receive," William wheezed, "may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen."

"Amen," was chorused.

He waited. He waited until Jen had her spoon in the soup before he picked his up again and glided through the thick liquid. He raised it to his lips and it was…pea. Pea soup. Not horrible. Just pea. Alright. Maybe a little bit horrible. He continued to eat silently and he felt Alexander's eyes on his.

"Sorry about that," Alexander said without a hint of apology. "Grace, I mean. I know not everyone follows dinner etiquette to the letter nowadays. I guess if you've been born to it, it seems more natural."

"Don't worry about it," Rusty said. _You being grateful for what's coming?_ "I applaud the sentiment."

* * *

He shouldn't have let Rusty go. He shouldn't. He should have... Danny gave a hollow laugh. What options were there exactly? He trusted Rusty. Rusty knew he trusted him. There was not even a need to qualify the statement with an "implicitly" or a "completely". There was trust and everything it stood for between them.

* * *

Rusty thought the sound of William slurping the soup would stay with him for some time to come. It was regular and noisy and it continued long after the rest of them had finished. Finally, the spoon was laid down and a napkin was dabbed and plates were cleared.

"Jen tells us you live in Greenwich," Alexander said, adding pleasantly, "I had no idea that area was fashionable."

"I have a warehouse apartment there." Why ever not? He fancied having one.

"How very charming. Don't you worry that it's a little too bourgeoisie?"

Did he? He might. Maybe he shouldn't. He searched for the reference but there wasn't one. Ah, well. Time to fall back on charming and vague.

"I think it's all in the eye of the beholder, Alexander."

The next course arrived and Rusty stared down at the platter of shellfish and concentrated on keeping emotion off his face.

Alexander reached over and picked up a shell and tossed the oyster down his throat.

"Sorts out the men from the boys," he said to Benjamin.

"Yeah," his brother agreed, following suit with a cold glance in Rusty's direction. "Every time."

William was busy digging in to a shell with a small fork and Jen was sitting tight, making absolutely no move to partake. Slowly, Rusty picked up an oyster and looked down at it. It looked slippery and rubbery and slimy and he could not contemplate anything slipping down his throat that was so...

"I think these are the most disgusting things," Jen said helpfully beside him. "Alex loves them."

Rusty looked up as Alexander picked up and tipped a second shellfish into his mouth. And then he grinned to himself for a long second and copied him. There were worse things to swallow.

* * *

The incident at breakfast hadn't been the first time Alexander had behaved abominably during his stay. Danny could still remember how angry he'd felt at the casual way Alexander had made Luis wait in the hall, heavy bags in each hand, while he chatted with Cole and Randall. And Luis had stood there patiently, silently, head slightly bowed. Danny had looked daggers at Alexander, drawling his way through a story that could surely wait.

_"Who's the boy?" Alexander had finally noticed him._

_"Daniel." Cole said his name as if it were agony to remember him._

_"Father's little indiscretion," Randall added, none too quietly._

_"Oh." Alexander looked at him curiously and Danny stuck his chin out defiantly. "I know how that feels. You have my sympathies," he said to Cole and Randall and there was laughter._

* * *

They were on to the meat. Beef Wellington. Rusty was just happy it wasn't liver. He chased a tiny carrot around his plate before spearing it.

"I tried on such a fabulous hat today," Jen announced a propos of nothing. "In this super little boutique, Madeleine's."

Her father and brothers said nothing encouraging and Rusty felt obliged to contribute to the conversation. "That sounds like fun."

"Oh, it was," Jen agreed happily. "It's...well, you're going to have to wait and see."

She broke off into giggles and then added, "The girl who served me was stupid beyond all things. Clumsy and awkward. Her first week, if you please. How dare they let someone so inexperienced serve."

The thought occurred to Rusty that no one was ever going to gain experience otherwise. It was a thought that had passed Jen by.

"I made my feelings known to the owner. 'So sorry, Miss Lowmen'. 'It won't happen again, Miss Lowmen'. Too right it won't. I told her if that girl was in the shop on my next visit then I would turn round and walk right out of the door again."

"Well said, Jen," her father approved.

"Did you mean it?" Rusty asked softly.

"Did I mean what?" Jen frowned.

"Did you mean you wouldn't shop there again if the girl was still working there?"

Jen stared at him. "Don't be ridiculous, of course I didn't. Their hats are simply wonderful. Let me tell you about my new hat. It's cream and it's trimmed with ostrich feathers..."

Rusty let the words wash over him and any sympathy he might have had for Jen dissipated. He felt Alexander's gaze on him, curious and probing and he ignored him. He concentrated on being less than fascinated by Jen.

* * *

_Alexander had echoed Cole and Randall. He was smug and haughty and indifferent and he hadn't bothered to hold a conversation with Danny. Not that Danny minded. Alexander had expanded a little on his father, William, and his father's riches to emphasise his equality of status. And still his eyes had strolled round the rooms he had been sat in, taking in the wealth on show with an appraising look and Danny had bitten his lip. _

_When Maria had brought in dinner, Alexander had given her a cursory glance of interest and then turned back to a discussion on the stock market with Cole. Sitting the other side of the table, Danny had watched Maria depart longingly. He so wanted to follow her back down the stairs to the kitchen. His parents were not present. His father was confined to bed and his mother had one of her heads and really, really he didn't see why he had to be here. Cole and Randall didn't want him there. Alexander, he was sure, wouldn't even notice if he got up now and walked away. But somewhere there was some rule about guests and dinner and he'd ended up stuck at a joyless meal._

_Somewhere in his head, he was wondering about whether real diamonds were ever used in chandeliers and if they were, whether someone would be able to substitute worthless crystal and if so, whether anyone would ever notice and if not, did that count as theft? If the owner didn't realise? Suddenly, he realised Alexander had said something to him._

_"Sorry?"_

_"You should be," Cole said loudly. He'd been drinking red wine. Alexander had kept topping his glass up. And Danny knew alcohol and Cole was not a pleasant combination._

_"I was wondering how old you were. I have a brother who's seven."_

_"I'm ten." He frowned at Alexander suspiciously._

_"Ah, double figures."_

_"He's off to school soon," Randall said. "Peace and quiet then."_

_"Not that we see much of him," Cole added. "Down in the kitchen with the hired help most of the time."_

_"Knows his place then," Alexander suggested and there was more laughter._

_Maria came back in to clear the plates and she must have seen Danny's face flushed and angry and miserable and she would certainly guess the cause. _

_"Danny," she said with a smile. "Why don't you step down from the table? I'm sure your brothers and their guest would excuse you."_

_"God, yes," said Randall fervently and immediately._

_Danny stood up with a glare and then Maria smiled at him and he felt himself relax and smiled back, his eyes thanking her for the intervention._

_Across the way, he felt Alexander's curious gaze follow Maria and him out of the room._

* * *

The dessert was something intricate. There was a sugar cage and fruit and cream and layers of chocolate and caramel and sponge. As if someone was trying too hard. Rusty thought about honest apple crumble and bit his lip.

Jen and Benjamin attacked their plates with gusto. Alexander ate neatly, tiny mouthfuls. Sweet stuff was obviously not his thing. William ate as he had done nearly the entire meal: wordlessly but not silently. Rusty picked up his fork and spoon and started in on the concoction.

"So I understand you have a talent for tennis?" Alexander waited until Rusty's mouth was full.

He swallowed quickly. "I like to play."

"And Jimmy Connors no less has encouraged you to turn pro."

"Well, he mentioned-"

"Not a gentleman's sport anymore, of course. Not since they cheapened it by opening the game and offering prize money. Now any member of the proletariat can take part. And they do."

Alexander's eyes were daring him to contradict.

"I wouldn't say money was what defined a gentleman's behaviour," Rusty replied.

"Manners maketh the man," William intoned suddenly.

Rusty's eyes were locked on to Alexander's. "Definitely."

* * *

_It was two days after Alexander had arrived. The previous night, Danny had watched him in his father's study. Seen the acquisitive light in his eyes when Cole had shown him the stamp. And he was almost certain that Alexander planned to do something about it. _

_It was breakfast. Maria was serving him with bacon and a smile and Cole and Randall were nowhere to be seen. The door opened and Alexander walked in._

"_Coffee. Toast." _

_The words were directed at Maria who bowed her head and disappeard. The lack of civility made Danny scowl. Alexander must have seen it. _

"_What's your problem?"_

_Oh, the smart move would be not to tell him. The smart move would be to remember Alexander was a guest and to keep his head down and to say nothing._

"_You don't have to be so rude."_

_"To her?" Alexander stared at him with incredulity and then laughed. "She's nothing."_

_Fury flew through Danny. "She's not nothing! She's amazing! She's-"_

"_She is a servant!" Alexander snapped. "Let me give you some friendly advice, you little brat. The world works in a certain way. You're lucky enough to have found yourself in a privileged position. Others have not. Others are trapped in a dirty little part of society that they are never going to crawl their way out of. The sooner you get that attitude fixed in your head, the better."_

_Danny's fists curled and then the door opened and Cole and Randall walked in, laughing and with difficulty, Danny swallowed the anger. If he continued, this was going to turn into a fight he couldn't win. __He pushed the plate of bacon away untouched and looked across at Alexander grinning up at his half-brothers. He hadn't asked to be born into privilege. Privilege seemed to be a prison all of its own. _

* * *

There had been cheese and biscuits and coffee and he had survived. He had made it through the minefield of barbs and social complexities. He could see relief and Danny waiting for him. Nearly there. So nearly there.

William stood up and Rusty got to his feet too. William shook his hand.

"Pleasure to meet you, Richard. I'm going to retire and leave you youngsters to it. Maybe see you again."

As he walked out of the room, he gave his daughter a meaningful look and she sighed and got to her feet also.

"I'd better be going too, Richard," she said regretfully.

Wait, wait. This was unexpected. They were leaving him here with…

"I hope I'll see you soon," Jen said hopefully and he almost missed his cue.

"How about tomorrow?" he smiled, standing up once more. "Let me pick you up for lunch, say, about twelve? Give you a chance to wear that new hat."

She giggled and fluttered her eyelashes. "Alright…"

He pressed her hand to his lips and she giggled again and left the room. Rusty turned back to the table.

Alexander was pouring brandy and pushed a glass at Rusty.

"And then there were three," Alexander said.

* * *

Danny checked his watch and grimaced. He had been trying to apportion time to each course, trying to work out how long it would take Rusty to get across town, trying to calculate the earliest time that Rusty might be back at the apartment. Not yet. Not yet. And he didn't want to think about how he was going to feel if the allocated time elapsed and Rusty didn't make an appearance.

* * *

"Cigar?"

"No, thank you."

Alexander lit up and exhaled, blowing a steady stream of smoke across the table at him.

"Come on, Richard, let's stretch our legs."

Rusty picked up the brandy and followed Alexander and Benjamin out into the hall with the paintings.

"Understand you studied...what was it again, Benjamin?"

"Fine Art," came the answer.

"Mmm. So what do you think of these?"

Oh, this was tricky. Not to cause offence, not to expose his own lie... Evasion. First tactic, evasion.

"To be honest, my favourite artist was Turner."

"The Romantics. Why am I not surprised? And your favourite Turner?"

Second tactic, diversion.

"The Fighting Temeraire." Definite. "It's simply amazing. The colours, the richness. The gold and silver in the sky reflected in the ship and the fantastic sunset with the reds and the oranges linked to the fiery little tug-"

"You have a real enthusiasm." Alexander cut across him, obviously not willing to listen to a treatise on a masterpiece. Rusty was thankful because he suspected that even he might run out of things to say.

"It's a nice painting," Benjamin said unexpectedly and they both looked at him.

"What?" he frowned at his brother. "We did it at school."

The green-eyed glare was fierce and then Alexander was back with Rusty.

"So tell me what you think of these." He waved his hand around the hall.

Rusty took a sip of brandy and walked up to the nearest canvas. He nodded to himself and moved on to a second and a third and a fourth. Then he returned to the middle of the hall where the Lowmens were waiting.

"Well?"

"I would say they were valuable pieces," he began and saw the gleam in Alexander's eye. He went on, "I would, but..."

"But what?"

"Truthfully, Alexander? And I hesitate to say it..."

"Say it."

"Oh, I'm a guest. It's not my place," Rusty shook his head.

"Say it."

"Well," he shrugged. "I don't think they're genuine. Brushwork's wrong."

Benjamin let out a startled chortle. "How did you know?"

"You mean _you_ know?" Rusty was wide-eyed.

Alexander sighed and glared at his brother. "Yes, we know. Let me show you where the real ones are kept. Benjamin? You can go to bed now."

Rusty saw the younger brother start to open his mouth in protest and then look down at his half-drunk brandy with an unvoiced sigh.

"Goodnight, Richard."

"Goodnight, Benjamin. Nice to meet you."

Unsmiling, Alexander cut off the social pleasantries. "This way."

* * *

Damn it, he should have been back by now. Danny was certain he should have been back. He had started to pace and had stopped himself. Ridiculous. Just... Rusty was right. Rusty was absolutely right. The worst thing that could happen was that somehow Richard Carrick was exposed as not being what he purported to be. And then what? It's not like the Lowmens were going to harm him. Polite society didn't quite work like that. Not nowadays. No one got horsewhipped or chased by dogs. The Lowmens weren't going to call the police. All they were going to do if the worst comes to the worst was throw Richard out on his ear and then Rusty came home and they found another way to get the stamp.

Danny looked at the door. Damn it, he should have been back by now.

* * *

Alexander had led him through the door and down the stairs and to the walk-in safe. Without looking at what he was doing, with his eyes firmly on Rusty, Alexander's fingers flew over the lock. Rusty kept his gaze even and mild and well away from the combination. Alexander pulled the door open and hit a light switch.

A fluorescent tube flared into life. Rolls of canvas were neatly lined up. There were neat little bundles of cash on shelves. A stack of gold ingots was against a wall. There were trays and trays of jewellery. Alexander pulled one out which was laden with individual diamonds and laid it on a table.

"Look at this. What...twelve? Fifteen jewels? I swear we lose count. Let me show you one of the real paintings."

He turned his back on Rusty and Rusty stared at the tray of gems. There weren't twelve. There weren't fifteen. There was twenty-two precisely. He looked again at Alexander busying himself in the corner. It was a test. A clumsy one.

When Alexander turned round, Rusty was back by the door, the tray of diamonds untouched. Alexander sighed and unfurled a small and ugly portrait.

"Very nice," Rusty lied. "I can see why you would want to keep it safe."

"We are alone now and we can speak freely. I want to keep the entire Lowmen fortune safe," Alexander said. "In case that isn't clear."

It was clear. It was very clear. Rusty decided to go on the offensive.

"So how are you doing that, Alexander? Apart from trying to outlive your father?"

He was gratified to see the hard edge in Alexander's eyes.

There was a pause.

"My sister isn't pretty. She isn't that bright. She isn't even that nice. She only has one thing to recommend her. Wouldn't you agree?"

Rusty said nothing. Nothing he said was going to change Alexander's view of him and while Alexander thought like this, he wouldn't be suspecting anything else.

"So, if some greedy little fortune-hunter wanted to quit while he was ahead, he could help himself to a few of these." Alexander indicated the diamonds. "No questions asked."

"Trying to buy me off, Alexander?"

"Absolutely."

"You must really be threatened by me."

"By you?" The words nearly choked Alexander. "By some jumped-up little nouveau riche who fancies his chances at wedding and bedding my sister? You must be joking."

"I'm going to carry on seeing Jen. You need to learn to live with it."

"You don't want me as an enemy," Alexander warned.

"I certainly don't want you as a friend," Rusty smiled.

* * *

There was a knock at the door and Danny tore it open. Rusty was there and he couldn't help the relief showing in his face.

"You alright?" Rusty asked, stepping into the apartment.

_Am now._

"Idiot," Rusty muttered softly.

"You alright?" His gaze was all over Rusty looking stupidly for signs that Alexander and the Lowmens had ill-treated him.

"I'm fine," Rusty reassured. "But I could do with a drink."

"Whisky?"

"I've had vodka, wine and brandy. I think whisky might be pushing it."

"Coffee?"

"Mmm."

Danny sighed at the agreement that wasn't. "If I go out to the shop on the corner and buy you milkshake, do you promise to tell me every last detail?"

_Deal._


	6. Safe

Waiting by InSilva

Disclaimer: *checks* Nope. Not mine. Hope does spring eternal.

Chapter Six: Safe

* * *

Danny was there and back in record time. As he opened the door, he found a trail of shoes, coat, scarf, jacket and bow tie leading to Rusty sitting on the edge of the couch, shirt collar undone. Rusty's shoulders looked like they were doing some sort of self-contained rumba.

"What the…?"

"Shoulders," Rusty said shortly and unnecessarily.

"Uh huh. Anything I can do to-"

"Not unless you tell me you're a trained masseur."

Danny's lips twitched.

He handed Rusty the bottle of milkshake and pointed at the floor in front of the couch.

"Sit."

He saw Rusty peer up at him and his mouth open and close and then Rusty did as he was told.

* * *

Strong fingers started working with assurance across his shoulders, rubbing away the tension and the stress that the evening had brought on. A small noise of satisfaction escaped Rusty and he saw without seeing the crook of Danny's smile.

"So start talking."

* * *

It was later and Danny had drawn out of Rusty the tale of the Martini made to shock and the false start to the dinner and had insisted – _"You tell me, Rus" and Rusty had sighed _- on hearing the little taunts and tests thrown at Rusty throughout. The time alone with Alexander in the safe had caused Danny's fingers to dig in slightly harder than they should have done and even as he did so and as Rusty was hiding the wince, apology was being offered.

Now, the shoulder rub was over and Rusty was sitting cross-legged on the couch facing Danny and looking down at the empty bottle with regret.

Danny was studying his nails. "What did you think of them?" he asked quietly and Rusty shrugged.

"Morris was right. Benjamin does whatever Alexander says. I nearly felt sorry for Jen right up to the point where she-"

"No," Danny interrupted and this time he looked up and at Rusty and Rusty looked up and at him. "What did you think of them?"

He was on the downside of the adrenaline rush. The evening was over and the rich food and the alcohol and the need to be on his mettle had been handled and dealt with and now Rusty was feeling the release and the mellowness: they were dulling him and as he looked into Danny's eyes, he realised and cursed to himself.

Danny's eyes were asking a different question to the one that was falling out of his lips. And there was pride and openness and just a flavour of fear wrapped up together as Danny waited for Rusty's answer.

"I think they're not you," Rusty said finally. "I think they're very much not you."

The fear disappeared and he saw Danny give a little nod of acknowledgment and drop his gaze.

"Better get these clothes hung up," Danny said and busied himself picking up the trail.

* * *

Rusty climbed into bed and sank down into softness with a sigh. His head was a little heavy and he closed his eyes gratefully and thought about the battle of wits with Alexander. All the little comments that could be taken either way. The private conversation that was not for others' ears. The determination to cause maximum discomfort. And never being called on any of it… His eyes shot open and he gave a chuckle. Who knew that knowing Millicent could ever be considered a benefit?

He settled back down and waves of tiredness washed over him. The tension in his shoulders had dissipated: Danny had worked wonders and while that might not be completely surprising, it had been…Rusty swam back up through the sea of fatigue to marvel for a moment. A man's hands on his body and it had been…non-threatening, non-sexual, comforting and it hadn't even entered his head that it should be other. His final thought before sleep was to wonder at the naturalness of it all.

* * *

Danny lay his head on his pillow and smiled to himself at how much relief he was feeling about Rusty's safe return and other things. Ridiculous. Ridiculous. Especially when tomorrow wasn't even over yet. Especially when tomorrow hadn't even arrived. When the envelope wasn't even in his hands.

_

* * *

_

Randall and Cole had taken Alexander out for a drive. With Alexander's words about Maria still ringing in his ears, Danny could only hope they'd be gone all day.

_He heard coughing from the study and he hesitated and then knocked gently._

"_Come in." And it was faint and feeble and it still put Danny on edge._

_Danny pushed the door open and his father looked up from his desk._

"_Good morning, sir," Danny began and his father gave a small nod of approval that Danny took as permission to approach. He stood in front of the desk, his hands behind his back and waited._

"_What is it, Daniel?" _

_His father was formal and distant and Danny bit his lip. _

"_Sir. You know Mark – my tutor – my ex-tutor-"_

"_What are you trying to say, Daniel?"_

_Danny swallowed. He nearly always ended up tongue-tied in front of his father. No one else. But his father, nearly always._

"_He collected stamps, sir. And…and I wondered whether it was a suitable pastime for a gentleman to pursue."_

_Careful words, carefully chosen. His father responded best when status was invoked._

"_Well, well." And Danny was startled to see a watery smile form on his father's face. "It's certainly a distinguished hobby. I knew many boys at school who indulged." His expression drifted away slightly and Danny knew he was thinking about old days. If he didn't say something quickly, this could disappear down a train of thought it would be difficult to drag his father back from._

"_Is there any money in it?" he blurted out and saw a mixture of emotions cross his father's face. Distaste for the crassness not of the thought but of the phrasing. And Danny saw pride that he had asked._

"_There can be. Come round here."  
_

_Danny walked up to his chair. His father opened the same drawer that Cole had the previous night and pulled out a vellum envelope and passed it to Danny. It was long and slim and blank and heavy and the Inverted Jenny was stuck in the top right corner._

"_This is a very special stamp," Danny's father went on. "The picture was printed upside down and there weren't very many issued like this. It's worth a considerable amount of money."_

_Danny stared down at the thick parchment envelope._

"_Please, sir, might I have it to start off my collection?"_

_His father laughed and started coughing again. When he'd recovered, he smiled at Danny and that in itself was a strange enough sight to be memorable._

"_Some day, my boy, some day. But not now."  
_

_He held his hand out and reluctantly, Danny handed the envelope back. It had been worth a try._

* * *

Sleep rolled over Danny as he thought about Rusty's account of the evening. The Lowmens out in force…Alexander determined to trip him up and when that failed, to buy him off… The tightness in Rusty's shoulders was more than understandable… He'd felt the knots that spoke of concentration beyond measure…

Images and words floated across his mind… insinuations and taunts and Rusty had played to them… And there had been something in Rusty that spoke of not having to pretend too hard… And if that were true, then tonight, Danny had… Danny's fingers had…

Sleep was overwhelming him but he fought fatigue long enough to worry about what he had done and for immediate dismissal of the worry: because it had felt the right thing to do.

* * *

The smell of bacon cooking curled its way round Rusty's bedroom door and summoned him. Danny was in the kitchen with toast and coffee already on the table and he smiled a Good morning at Rusty.

Rusty yawned and sat down at the table as Danny put a plate of fried food in front of him.

"You ready?" Danny asked.

"For Jen? Yeah. You?"

Danny nodded. The fake Jenny was stuck to a heavy parchment envelope and was lying on the table between them.

They were ready.

* * *

"I pick Jen up at twelve. William is already at his club and Alexander and Benjamin will leave at twelve-thirty to join him. The house will be clear by one at the latest."

Danny looked at the sketched layout of rooms.

"Alarm system's by the door?"

Rusty nodded. "Downstairs is kitchen, dining room, drawing room and stairs down to the cellar and the safe. Guessing the study is on the next floor up."

"Yeah."

It made sense. Top floor would be bedrooms and bathrooms. The middle floor would be sitting room, library, study...

Rusty was frowning.

"What?"

"Why would there be a dish in the hall? Big silver dish-"

"Post," Danny said promptly. "And calling cards."

Rusty blinked at him.

"Like this," Danny sighed and pulled out his wallet and handed a small piece of rectangular card to Rusty.

_Daniel Ocean_, Rusty read. The card was neat and clean and Rusty could never ever imagine having anything similar himself.

"Told you," Danny said, reclaiming it. "We were rich."

Rusty saw him look down at it and then up at Rusty.

"I guess I should…"

"No," Rusty said quietly. "I think it suits you."

* * *

The cook was long gone; Jen had been collected by a smiling Rusty; the maid had left for the day; and Alexander and Benjamin had departed to join their father at his club.

Danny stood in the hall of the Lowmen residence and listened to the grandfather clock ticking away in the empty house. The hall was as Rusty had described. Marble and daunting with stern portraits and the table with the silver dish full of post. An umbrella stand with the expected and walking sticks as well. The doors off were shut and foreboding. Danny's mouth twisted. It was all very familiar.

The staircase beckoned.

The study was indeed on the first floor and the bureau was lying open. There was correspondence and stationery neatly ordered and Danny picked up the tidy sheaf of envelopes. Sure enough, sitting there innocently was the Jenny. He pulled out the fake and compared.

They were similar and at the same time nothing alike. The colours were wrong. The wording was not as fine. The detail on the plane itself was blurry. It wouldn't fool an expert for a second. But that was OK. It only had to fool a Lowmen long enough for them to forget Richard Carrick had ever been in their lives.

Danny pocketed the real Jenny. Time to move. The paper with the alarm codes and the combination burned a hole in his pocket as his thoughts turned idly to the safe downstairs. It was tempting. But now that the Lowmens had got up close and personal with Rusty, he didn't want to push their luck. The stamp would do.

He was nearly at the foot of the stairs when he saw through the frosted glass the shadows on the doorstep. He looked behind him. Too far to run back up the flight. The drawing room. He flew across to the door but the handle wouldn't turn. Spinning round, he tried the dining-room, the kitchen, the door to the cellar…all locked and he thought of Morris and Alexander's probable reaction to servants helping themselves to alcohol.

There was no time to break the locks because the lock on the front door had a key in it… Danny was out of time and far too far away any kind of safety to choose anything but the only real option remaining. As the door opened, he charged.

Almost, almost, he made it. He pushed through two startled people and tasted fresh air and freedom and then hands grabbed him and threw him back into the hall. He skittered into the table and the silver dish went flying, post everywhere.

Danny scrambled to his feet. Alexander and a young man he didn't know but who had to be Benjamin were through the door and the door was shut and there was no way out, there was no way out… It wasn't going to stop him. He put his shoulder down and ran blindly for the one exit.

There was a thwack and it took a moment for him to register the fact that he had been hit on the side of the head with something hard that hurt. He stumbled down to his knees and then there was another blow and stars blinded him. Danny fell back on the marble floor and he blinked up at Benjamin, wielding a heavy walking stick like he was Babe Ruth.

Alexander turned to the umbrella stand and selected a slim silver cane that looked a whole lot less threatening than the improvised cudgel in Benjamin's. With a swift movement, Alexander twisted the top of the cane away and exposed a blade. Swordstick. Danny could feel the hysteria rising. It was suddenly all getting very Avengers.

The blade was at his throat.

"Well, my little housebreaker, I think you might want to start talking," Alexander suggested.

Alexander. Alexander as confident and as superior as ever he had been. The blade dug in a little and Danny felt a fine trickle of blood make its way down his neck. Anger and helplessness flooded through Danny just as they had when he was ten. He was silent. Alexander's eyes narrowed.

"Have we…?"

Danny kept his face blank and he lowered his gaze and a low whine started in his throat.

"Don't hurt me," he whispered, "please don't hurt me…" Keeping his posture submissive, ignoring the pain in the side of his head, he twisted away from the blade and scrabbled on his front. "I heard there was money and jewels and I just thought…please don't hurt me…I was just trying to-"

"I know exactly what you were trying to do." There was a sneer and laughter and then there was more pain and there was blackness.

* * *

Danny came to and there was yet more blackness around him and he was tied hand and foot and lying on the floor of… Fear swamped him like fog.

"Turned out your pockets. Checked your wallet," Alexander was standing a little way away. By the door. By the door of… "Daniel Ocean. Gentleman thief." He held up the card and smiled at himself.

Danny said a silent prayer of thanks that he had changed his surname as soon as he could. There was no trigger to remind Alexander of a short visit twelve years ago. Because that could be bad. Not that this particular situation was good…

Alexander pocketed the cash from the wallet and tossed it in to land beside Danny. "Let me explain what's going to happen here."

The knots on his hands were loose. Bond villains always wanted a long time to explain matters. Danny hoped Alexander was of that mould. His fingers worked the rope desperately because the alternative was Alexander stepping back and closing the door of…

"We called back to pick up…you know what? It doesn't matter. The point is that we are going now. And we will be gone some time. I don't intend to miss lunch and I told Benjamin we will deal with you later."

Later…later…but with Alexander that would mean…

"That's what I told him," Alexander said pleasantly. "I think he thinks that I'm going to call the police. We both know that isn't going to happen, don't we?"

Not the police…Danny's fingers scrabbled at the knots.

"You won't be able to explain things," he said, needing to keep Alexander talking.

"I won't _need _to explain things," Alexander corrected. "Lowmen money talks. You won't be the first little piece of imprudence we've had to handle."

The knots wouldn't co-operate. Nearly, nearly but not in time, there was nowhere near enough time…

"Here's the Lowmen fortune you were after. Fill your pockets."

And with that, Alexander stepped back and the door to the safe shut tight.

* * *

Benjamin was waiting in the hall. Alexander saw that he had tidied the post back into the silver dish and was now fidgeting with the walking stick. Alexander snatched it off him.

"There's blood, Alex," Benjamin said worriedly. "On the stick I mean."

Alexander studied it briefly and dismissively. "We take it with us and leave it somewhere public. There's nothing on the stick to bring it back to us."

"The man. Daniel Ocean."

"He'll be fine, Benjamin. Couple of hours in the safe will show him the error of his ways. Scare him senseless."

"But how will he breathe?"

A slow smile formed on Alexander's face. "There's the automatic air supply, Benjamin. Just in case someone gets trapped. Air gets pumped in."

"Oh, yes, yes," Benjamin looked relieved.

* * *

Down in the safe, Danny had lain in the dark and had heard the air supply start up the second the door closed and he had wanted to cry with relief. Alexander hadn't meant it, hadn't meant anything more than threat and bluff and…

The pump stopped. It stopped and that meant it had been manually overridden and the fear washed through him all over again.

* * *

Rusty got up from the park bench. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He just wished he knew what.


	7. Lasting

Waiting by InSilva

Disclaimer: nope, own no one you recognise. Or indeed anyone you don't recognise. :)

Chapter Seven: Lasting

* * *

With an effort, Danny finally freed himself from the clumsy knots around his wrists and laid back on the floor in the dark, panting and trying not to. His head still throbbed though he was certain the blood had stopped running down the side of his face now. Not that that seemed important in the scheme of things. Danny would take a river of blood running down his face if it meant that he wasn't shut up in a little walk-in deathtrap. He was sure it was his imagination but the air already seemed thinner and less abundant and he wanted to make it last in a way that good malt never quite did.

Blackness surrounded him: complete and utter and weighty. His eyes found no light and shade and he tried not to think about how small the room actually was. In his head, he could hear Mark, his old tutor, presenting the whole thing as a math problem.

_"You are trapped in a safe with the following dimensions; please calculate the cubic capacity of air available to you and how long you can expect that to last given a steady intake of breath and a heart rate not exceeding one hundred beats per minute."_

His heart rate was more than that, Danny was sure. His heart was pounding and he was certain that was not a good thing. Too much precious oxygen being forced round the bloodstream. He swallowed and concentrated on thinking calm thoughts and ignoring the fact that the situation did not lend itself readily to such things. Peace and calm and tranquil and green fields and blue skies and-and- he was shut up in a small space with a thick metal door and not enough air and the bastard who had closed the door intended him to die, meant him to breathe his last and suffocate and there would be a corrupt policeman or two and his body would disappear and be thrown into the river or a landfill site or inside another coffin that was already due burial and-and-

_Idiot._

He heard the word somewhere together with the intonation and the affection. Rusty. Danny swallowed. Rusty would be sitting on the park bench. Probably with a hot dog even though he'd just eaten lunch with Jen. Rusty would be waiting. And Danny wondered how long he would wait. And when Rusty would decide not to wait any longer. And what Rusty would do. Somehow, Danny couldn't see Rusty pottering off home and sitting things out. Rusty might come to the house and Danny's heart leapt at the thought before realising that there would be nothing to indicate that he, Danny, was locked up in the safe. Rusty might come to the house and go away again and never ever know what had happened. As that thought ran through him, Danny felt it even less likely that his heart rate would slow.

With a sigh, he sat up and started in on the knots around his ankles. There was always the chance that Alexander might get his timings wrong. And Danny wanted to take full advantage of that.

* * *

Rusty stared at the outside of the Lowmen house for some time, debating. Jen was definitely out of the way. An off-Broadway matinee that she was patronising. She wouldn't be back till late. The staff were, if they were sensible, making the most of time away from the Lowmens. That left the three men of the family. Rusty checked his watch. They would still be ensconced at their club for another couple of hours. He made his mind up. He had to be sure Danny wasn't in the house. Hadn't fallen down the stairs and knocked himself out. Hadn't twisted an ankle. Hadn't been struck by crippling appendicitis. Hadn't...just hadn't anything, actually.

Entry was fast and clean and Rusty stood in the hallway and listened intently. Nothing. No one. No Danny. Rusty's mind rewound itself. Start at the beginning. Had Danny actually made it in to the house in the first place? He climbed the stairs two at a time and found the study and the bureau and the envelope with the Jenny. Rusty held it in his hands. It _looked_ like the fake Jenny. It was tricky because he had nothing to compare it with but if he were asked to swear to it, he would have said that this was the same envelope that had sat on Danny's kitchen table this morning. He could convince himself it even smelt of Dannycooked bacon. Which meant that Danny had made the switch. Which meant that he wasn't in the house. And that Rusty should be looking elsewhere.

His mind full of traffic accidents and ambulances and which hospitals to start checking, he almost missed it. Almost. At the foot of the stairs, near the table with the silver dish full of post, in front of the door. A splash of red. A splash of wet and red.

Rusty dropped to the floor and wiped it up with his finger. He smelt it. Gingerly, he tasted it to make completely sure. And then he closed his eyes and swallowed hard. It could belong to anyone. Maybe Alexander had cut himself shaving or Jen had sliced a finger on a hat pin... It could belong to anyone. It could even - somehow miraculously and avoiding the physics involved - have been there last night when he came.

Or it could be Danny's. Danny could be hurt and he gritted his teeth as guns and knives and fists flashed through his head. He forced himself to think logically. There wasn't enough blood for anything permanent. Most likely, Danny had been hit. Hit and hurt. Well, not Jen. Not the cook or the maid either. And it was unlikely to be William. Which left Alexander or Benjamin. Or both.

Rusty glanced round the hall. They wouldn't have left Danny here... Police station, most likely. Or kicked him out of their car on their way to the club. An unhelpful image of Danny's unconscious body rolling out and on to the roadside flashed through Rusty's head.

He needed answers. He needed to visit the club.

* * *

Danny's feet were free now and he lay back down. His breathing was under control. Impressively so, he thought, all things considered.

He wasn't thinking about the deterioration of air quality. He wasn't thinking about asphyxia. He wasn't imagining the horror of drawing a deep breath that wouldn't come or the dark blanket of vacuum that would smother him.

He focused on the door. The darkness was disorientating but he hadn't changed his position. He was confident the door was where he thought it was. He rolled over three times and hit metal. He lay there.

All he could do was wait. Oh, hoping and praying came into it too.

* * *

The club was fifteen minutes from the house. An old Art Deco building with a liveried doorman and a sweep of steps up to two doors of glass and wood. Rusty adopted his best patrician face and strode into the lobby.

"Name's Richard Carrick," he said dismissively to the elderly man who came to greet him. "Looking for the Lowmen party – ah!"

Without waiting for the feeble challenge, he marched into the members' area where he had espied Alexander lounging in a stuffed leather chair, laughing with a couple of cronies. William was snoring opposite him. Benjamin was up at the bar, his back to them.

"Richard," Alexander tilted his brandy glass in acknowledgement. "I had no idea you were a member here. Entry criteria must be getting broader."

"You look at home," Rusty said, his voice even. "Eat well?"

"And drinking well," Alexander tipped the glass at him again. He nodded at his father. "And sleeping well apparently. Monty, Arthur, this is Richard Carrick. Currently dating Jen. Neither of us have any idea how long for."

Rusty smiled thinly. He nodded at Monty and Arthur and watched Alexander raise the glass again and his heart jolted. On Alexander's inner cuff was a streak of red. _Danny._ He was so overwhelmed, he almost missed Monty's next words.

"Tell Richard about your little adventure."

There was a smirk on Alexander's face and he said nothing. Rusty guessed that he wanted to have the story dragged out of him and normally, Rusty would not have played the game but he was certain this was linked to Danny and he had to know, he _had _to know.

"Adventure, Alexander?"

Alexander looked up at him. "We went back to collect my cigarette case. Little run in with a burglar," he drawled. "Nothing I couldn't handle."

Rusty kept his gaze mild and refused absolutely to listen to the molten lava that was building inside him. "What happened?"

The shrug was casual and affected. "Showed him you couldn't take on a Lowmen." Monty and Arthur sniggered. "He'll think twice about breaking in to another house. Proved more of a headache than he thought."

The sniggers became guffaws and Rusty ignored them. He could do it in two moves. He could knock the glass flying and grab Alexander by the shirt front, pinning him to the back of the chair. He could do it. He could. Instead, he found himself saying, "Where is he now?"

There were looks exchanged between the other three that he didn't understand.

"He's in a very safe place," Alexander assured him gravely. "Very safe." And Monty and Arthur dissolved into snorts of laughter once more.

* * *

His head was starting to ache. He didn't know how long he'd been shut in. Perception of time passing had leaked away from him. An hour? It had to be an hour. And that meant that Alexander would be gone for another hour at least. At the very least.

Did he have another hour's air? Could he lie here for another hour, not moving, trying not to breathe? How long could he hold his breath? Would it even help?

His head ached. He tried not to move. He lay as still as he could and concentrated on keeping his breathing steady and even.

* * *

_"Very safe," _he heard and he bared his teeth in response to Alexander's smugness. Before he could say a thing, a bluff and hearty man approached.

"Alex! There you are!" he boomed. "Come through here and help me out. I need a fourth for bridge."

"Very well, Roger," Alexander sighed. "Excuse me, gentlemen."

He got to his feet and Rusty saw his chances of finding out what had happened to Danny walking away from him to another room to partake in a card game he had never particularly enjoyed but which civilised society adored.

"Alexander!" he called after him. "Wh-"

Alexander turned and held up a hand. "I think we've had enough conversation today, don't you?"

Rusty took a half-step towards him and then paused. He had to be sensible about this. Even though he wanted to grab Alexander and make him talk, he had to be sane. There were more than enough men around to restrain him and this was Alexander's territory. He could picture Alexander's supercilious delight in having him frogmarched off the premises or in calling the police to report an affray. And that wouldn't help him find Danny. Rusty bit his lip.

"Do you need another player?" he asked desperately.

Roger turned and looked at him. "You any good?"

"I am." A deck was a deck was a deck.

"Roger Lancashire." Roger extended a hand.

"I'm-"

"He's no one, Roger," Alexander cut in, blocking the handshake. "Not our sort."

"Ah." The expression on Roger's face changed and with difficulty, Rusty kept the emotion off his face.

There was anger still within him and worry and fear and alongside there was something he hadn't felt in a while. Ridiculous, he told himself, because he had left that life so very long ago. But all the self-loathing and the feelings of being bought, of being used, of the dirt and the degradation rushed through him and overwhelmed him and he had to dig his nails into his palms and when he had mastered himself, Alexander and Roger were gone. Terrific.

Monty and Arthur were heading towards a snooker table. Rusty was alone with William. He glared down at William snoring and then he replayed Alexander's conversation in his head and looked over at the third Lowmen present.

* * *

The air was definitely less. Shortness of breath was growing and Danny didn't think it was a psychological reaction. And he felt so sick. He couldn't be sick. That would expend precious energy. He fought down the feeling and he focused on little shallow breaths. Little shallow breaths. In and out. In and out. In...out...

* * *

Benjamin was staring at an empty whisky glass and judging by the smell of him, Rusty supposed it hadn't been the first one he'd emptied.

"Richard," he acknowledged and there was a slight slur to his words that told Rusty he'd supposed right. "Good to see you."

"Benjamin. Hear you had some trouble."

The younger Lowmen brother's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"Alexander started to tell me. Suppose you fill in the details. Whisky, thank you," he smiled at the barman.

Benjamin said nothing until the whisky had been poured and the barman had moved away. Rusty pushed the glass in his direction and his fingers closed round it.

"Thanks," he said and stared at it and said nothing more.

"Benjamin..." Rusty prompted.

There was a sigh. "Alex forgot his cigarette case. It's silver and he's very attached to it. We went back and..." Rusty saw his knuckles whiten. "There was this man...I thought he was older but after I hit him with the walking stick, I could see-"

"You hit him?" And Benjamin's senses were too dull to pick up the sharpness in Rusty's tone.

"Yeah...well, he tried to run out of the door and we both of us pushed him back in and he fell against the table and sent everything flying and then he ran at us again and I just grabbed the nearest thing and hit at him a couple of times."

"You hit him a couple of times?" Rusty's teeth were gritted. Benjamin didn't appear to notice.

"Then he was on his back and Alex had this cane thing...I didn't even know there was a blade inside..." he tailed off and took a drink and Rusty ran a hand over his mouth. "And he just...he just turned on his front and _grovelled_. It was...awful."

"What did you do?" Whispered. Not daring to say too much too loudly because there was every chance he would end up screaming obscenities.

"Alex took the stick off me and..." There was another quick drink. "He knocked him out and we tied him up."

Danny, unconscious and tied up and Rusty's eyes closed to hide the furious pain. He nearly missed Benjamin's next words.

"It's just to scare him." And the guilt was rife.

Rusty opened his eyes and slowly turned his head. "What is?"

"It's alright, when we go back, Alex is going to let him go. It's just to give him a bit of a scare."

"What is?"

"It's got its own air supply. He will be alright."

"What-" Rusty broke off and blinked stupidly at Benjamin. Air supply. And Alexander's words from earlier. No...no. He shook his head. Alexander couldn't have... He looked more closely at Benjamin, guilty and miserable and needing the confession. Rusty reached out and took Benjamin's arm and turned him so that he could look at Benjamin's eyes. "What did you and Alex do to him?"

"It's alright," Benjamin said again. "He can breathe in there. There's air pumped in."

No...no..._Danny_... The rage flashed through him and he held on to his temper with difficulty. He controlled himself. He had to know the truth. A calm voice that he didn't recognise as his own said, "You locked him in the safe?"

Benjamin's eyes said it all.

* * *

It was warm and close and oppressive.

He didn't know how long he'd been there anymore. He was starting not to mind the thinness of the air. Little bouts of lightheadedness made him swim in and out of any sane part of his brain. Mark would have been proud: he thought he could tackle the math problem. Just needed to work out the average breaths and divide it into the cubic capacity and how many cc was a safe anyway and was there a Harley safe… He forced his mind away from the madness.

Think of somewhere calm and peaceful, Danny told himself. Sun and sea and sand... The beach flashed into sharp focus. _Rusty..._and there was a twist of pain. How he wished he'd known him for longer. He wished he had had the chance to work with him more and to taste the giddiness of success more than the couple of times they already had... The apartment. He hoped Rusty would carry on living there. He should have left it to him officially or something. In a will. Where there's a will, there's a way... Way on down. Elvis never lost it...he giggled.

His throbbing head brought him back to himself. He licked his lips. Just a little longer, he thought and couldn't make his mind up whether he was willing himself to hold on or providing an accurate judgment on how long he had left.

* * *

Rusty who remembered anything and everything with ease would never fully recall the journey that brought him back to the house. He moved on automatic pilot, his brain furiously working out the minutes and the seconds and how long had Danny been shut up in that tiny little tomb anyway?

Alexander: and Rusty's mind attached several other names to the name itself. Alexander, who had locked Danny up, bound hand and foot in blackness, in darkness, in a room with no air and no escape. Alexander, who, despite what Benjamin might think, Rusty was certain had left Danny to suffocate, had left Danny to die. And how long could he last? How long could Danny survive? How was it going to feel to breathe in air that wasn't there? How was it going to feel trying to force air into lungs, starved of oxygen? Rusty could hear the burning, clawing gasps for life that would never come. _Danny…_

Rusty was through the front door and slamming the numbers into the alarm system and sprinting across the marble floor. He'd been here. He'd been here earlier and stood here and Danny had been trapped and he could have got him out, he could have freed him then and there and that might have been in time and now if he wasn't, he would never forgive himself.

The cellar door melted away under his fingers and he pelted down the corridor. The safe was suddenly in front of him and even as he worked on the combination, he saw the switch that had disconnected the air supply. He threw it and went back to working on the lock.

* * *

He was dimly aware of the roaring sound in his ears. He did not realise its import. He lay and tried to survive on tiny little breaths and the pressure in his lungs was unbearable, it stabbed and burnt and it stung and he wanted to hold on, he wanted to, he needed to, he had to. He couldn't give up. He thought of Rusty sitting waiting on a bench and he couldn't give up. There was colour now in front of his eyes. Little hazysharp fireworks of pain and purple. Anytime now. Anytime now, the door would be opening and… Anytime now...

* * *

The door to the safe opened outward and Rusty heaved on the handle with all his might. Danny rolled forward and out and he dropped to his knees beside him.

"Danny, Danny..." There was blood on Danny's face and there was a dried trickle on Danny's neck and Danny was breathing, thank God, but there was blood and the breaths were shallow and... "Danny, Danny..."

With a gasp, Danny opened his eyes and blinked wildly, then ferociously gulped in air ignoring Rusty's warning to go steady. Deep, gasping mouthfuls of life. He coughed and retched and panted up at Rusty, focusing on Rusty's face and smiling like he would never stop.

"Rus..." he sighed and there was relief and happiness and genuine joy.

"I got you," Rusty said softly.

_Yeah, you do._

"Don't try and talk. Just take it easy."

"Alexander," Danny managed and Rusty pulled a face at how much notice Danny was taking of him.

"He's at the club. He'll be back...actually, I don't know when he'll be back."

"We ought to move." The words were ragged.

"We take our time."

_If he comes back_, Rusty read and laughed.

"If he comes back, he'll wish he hadn't."

Danny swallowed and struggled up into a sitting position.

"Danny…"

"S'OK." Danny was breathing more regularly now and the colour in his cheeks was approaching normal.

Rusty reached out to check on the head wound. It looked nasty but it was superficial. He glanced at the safe.

"Bastard," he said with feeling. He looked back at Danny and squeezed his shoulder.

"You think you can stand?"

Danny grinned. "In the circumstances, I'm willing to put money on it."

He clutched at Rusty and Rusty held his arms and they got to their feet. If Rusty felt Danny lean on him just a little bit longer, he didn't say. If Danny felt Rusty hold him just a little bit tighter, he didn't say.

* * *

They had shut the safe up and now they were retracing steps, along the corridor, through the door, across the hall.

"Post," Danny said suddenly and Rusty blinked at him.

Danny grabbed up the contents of the silver dish and searched through methodically till he came across what he was looking for. Rusty took it from his fingers and found himself staring at the envelope with the Jenny.

"Had to hide it," Danny explained and Rusty heard Benjamin saying, _"he just turned on his front and grovelled"_ and he thought of Danny scrabbling and cringing and all the time, his fingers were busy and clever.

It was sealed and felt weighty and Rusty raised an eyebrow.

"Sheet with the codes on. Didn't think it was wise to have it on me."

"Might have been tricky to explain."

Rusty looked again at the stamp and felt the certainty coursing through him that however much this stamp was worth, however disgracefully Alexander had behaved to obtain it, none of it was worth what Danny had been through, what had nearly been the end of Danny. He pushed it into his inner jacket pocket and nodded at Danny

They were out of there.


	8. Decisions

Waiting by InSilva

Disclaimer: I did not dream of Danny and Rusty. *dream up* (corrects herself)

Chapter Eight: Decisions

* * *

"Well?"

Danny stared down at the envelope in his fingers and didn't immediately answer.

They were back at the apartment. They'd bundled themselves into a cab and they'd travelled in mostly silence and they'd fallen through the door into what felt like a safer place to be and shut out the rest of the world. The fires of adrenaline that had been running through both of them were dying down now.

Rusty pushed the glass of whisky into his fingers and Danny took a sip, still staring at the envelope, thoughts of long ago and far away butting up against the feelings of right now.

Then he raised his gaze and said, "Yeah." The word answered a multitude of things. "Guess I should be thanking you," he added lightly.

"Mmm, because that's necessary." Rusty's tone indicated it was less than essential. He pressed a wet flannel up against the side of Danny's face and Danny relaxed into the soothing coolness.

"You don't think so?" Danny was amused.

"Figure if we start saying thanks, we're never gonna stop."

"Think this life and death thing is going to get to be a habit?"

Rusty smiled in spite of the tightness in his face.

"Maybe," he said. "Try not to let it."

Danny put the envelope down and his hand gently replaced Rusty's on the flannel and Rusty sat down heavily opposite.

"Tell me."

Rusty shrugged. "You didn't show. I went looking."

Danny's eyes wouldn't let it go at that. Rusty grimaced.

"Went to the club. Alexander was full of it. Got the story out of Benjamin. Came back and found you."

Rusty wasn't looking at him. Rusty was studying his own glass of whisky.

"What?" Danny asked patiently.

"I came to the house first," Rusty said eventually, unwillingly lifting his gaze to meet Danny's. The guilt was rich. "I came to the house and I found the fake stamp and I stood in the hall and then I walked out of the damn door."

_Ahh…_

"I should have found you earlier!" The words burst out of Rusty. "I should have known you were in there!"

"And how do you think you would have worked that out exactly?"

There was quiet fuming.

"Telepathy!" he scowled eventually.

"Uh huh," Danny nodded. "Well, let's work at that."

_You could have-_

"I didn't." Danny pointed out.

Rusty's eyes wanted to argue the matter further but Danny's gaze was even and mild and in favour of not wasting precious energy on things that could not be changed. Rusty sighed and his shoulders sagged.

"I'll call Saul. Tell him we're going to meet up at Carter's at the weekend."

As he stood up to go to the phone, Danny gave a chuckle.

"Alexander," he said by way of explanation. "He's in for a big surprise."

Then he remembered and his face grew serious and he saw Rusty waiting. He shifted his gaze away from Rusty and down at the drink. "He knows my name."

He felt Rusty looking at him and he felt certain Rusty was frowning at him: a glance upwards told him he was right.

"Alexander recognised you?"

"No." Reluctant. "He found my wallet."

There was a moment and then he could see the exasperation as Rusty worked it out. "Oh, you..." Rusty rubbed his eyes in frustration.

_I know._

He did. He was.

The problem hung in the air like a cryptic clue waiting to be solved.

"You need to be someone else," Rusty suggested.

"Change my name again?"

_Again?_

"Story for another time. Oh! You mean someone else needs to be me." Danny nodded. "That could work." He looked at Rusty. "Who?"

"Saul." Rusty was definite.

Danny had known Saul for a day less than he had known Rusty and not anywhere near as well. But questioning Rusty's judgment didn't even occur to him.

"Saul," he agreed.

* * *

Friday afternoon saw Rusty disappearing to meet Jen at MOMA.

"Let her down gently," Danny instructed. "Or, you know, not."

Rusty simply smiled.

"How did it go?" Danny asked when he returned. "Gently?"

"Not," Rusty said shortly and refused to say more on the subject.

* * *

They travelled up to Carter's place the next day and there was food and drinks and there was Saul and Carter and there were stories. Danny produced the envelope with the Jenny and Carter studied it thoughtfully.

"I can find a buyer," he said. "More than one. In fact, I can run a little auction for this."

Danny and Rusty exchanged glances.

"I'll let you know what price I attract. 10 percent commission."

It was fair. It was expected. As one, they nodded.

"You gonna tell us what happened?" Saul wanted to know. "Or we should just imagine priceless stamps fall down out of nowhere?"

"Someone told us where to find it," Danny began.

"We went and found it," Rusty supplied.

"Rusty dated an heiress."

"Sounds like a Washington Square," Carter said as an aside to Saul and Saul nodded.

"Danny swapped the stamps."

"We brought the stamp to you."

"One complication," Rusty said and Danny wondered for a second whether or not the whole story was going to come out. "Someone knows Danny's name."

"Someone you'd rather didn't," Saul suggested and they both nodded.

"Saul," Danny said because it was his screw-up. "Saul, I wondered-"

"-_we_ wondered-" A glare from Rusty.

"-we wondered-"

Saul held up a hand because he was already there. "Sure. Give me the details. I'll be very convincing."

Danny relaxed.

"Good haul," Carter said approvingly looking again at the stamp.

"Yeah. Bit of an adventure," Danny smiled. "Over now."

He looked over at Rusty who was sitting smiling at him and not saying a thing.

* * *

Danny was bringing the car round. Carter was on the phone. Saul caught Rusty's arm.

"Here you are. As much as I could raise plus a contribution from Carter." He saw Rusty's expression and shrugged. "He likes to back a winner."

"Thanks, Saul."

He looked curiously at Rusty. "You know what you're doing, right?"

"Yes." Rusty's eyes were crystal. "And Saul. Be careful. Beware of Alexander."

Saul nodded reassuringly and then saw the hardness in Rusty's eyes and suddenly shivered. Alexander was the one who needed to be wary.

* * *

Alexander had been angry since he'd come back from the club and thrown open the safe and discovered the vanishing act.

_Benjamin who was at his shoulder had gasped, wide-eyed._

_"How did he-?"_

_Alexander had shot him a piercing look. "Only you and I knew he was in here, Benjamin. What happened?"_

_His brother had looked at him blankly. "What do you-? I don't know what happened!"_

_"You came back, didn't you? When I was playing bridge..."_

_"No! No!" Benjamin gave a nervous laugh then muttered, "I wanted to."_

_Alexander pounced. "You wanted to? You wanted this thief to get away? To steal from us?"_

_Benjamin looked at the contents of the safe which were remarkably undisturbed. "He didn't take anything."_

_"He didn't-" Alexander span on his heel and stared at the riches within, frowning. "He didn't..."_

_"How did he get out, Alex?" Benjamin asked, breaking the mood._

_Green eyes stared at him. "You tell me."_

The disappearance grated on him. Benjamin swore blind that he had not let the man out and Alexander knew _he_ hadn't and he was also aware that safe doors did not unlock themselves. The mystery was aggravating.

Now, it was Sunday, three days after and he was opening the front door to find another stranger stood in the hall with his father and sister hovering round him. The stranger was a smartly dressed middle-aged man and his father was smiling and nodding and Alexander kept the scowl off his face with difficulty. Who was this?

"Alex," his father said. "Come and meet Mr Daniel Ocean."

Alexander stared and only half-heard his father complete the introduction.

"Pleased to meet you," he said automatically, shaking the hand offered.

"Mr Ocean has had the most awful couple of days," Jen volunteered. "First of all, his wallet was stolen-"

"Young hoodlum!" Daniel Ocean exclaimed with beautiful enunciation. "What is the world coming to?"

William made noises of agreement and Alexander's brain engaged itself.

"You had your wallet stolen?"

"In broad daylight." Daniel was indignant. "Walking in the park and lo and behold, a light-fingered youth relieved me of it."

"Would you know him again?"

"Oh, I had but the briefest of views as he ran away. Dark haired and young. That's as far as I could tell you. Certainly the police didn't want to know."

William snorted and the two older men exchanged a look of "what was the world coming to".

"And then he turned his ankle just outside. Father and I saw it happen," Jen trilled.

Daniel smiled at her. "And an excellent nursemaid you have been, young lady. A small glass of the medicinal and half an hour's rest and chat. I am much obliged and now I must be on my way."

Alexander looked nonplussed.

"I hear bad things come in threes," Daniel said as he made his way to the front door with a slight limp. He turned bright eyes on Alexander. "I wonder what the third might be."

* * *

"Thanks, Saul." Gratitude and relief were wrapped up in two words. Danny hung up to find Rusty looking expectantly and he shrugged. "Saul did his thing."

"He's good at that."

"Yeah." Danny hadn't seen him in action but he'd seen Rusty and he could imagine.

Rusty rubbed at the side of his mouth. "Should be enough to at least make Alexander doubt himself."

"Something's got to," Danny muttered. Alexander had been as arrogant as Danny had remembered. He ran a hand through his hair and then picked up the paper. "Pizza this evening? Spicy beef and green peppers, right? And I'll pick up some ice-cream." Danny was scanning the TV pages and made a happy noise. "_To Have and Have Not."_

He looked at Rusty and grinned. "You know how to whistle, don't you?"

"Figured you more for Bogart," Rusty flashed a brief smile. "I'm not going to be around this evening."

The grin disappeared.

"Oh," Danny said and couldn't hide the disappointment. He had no right to Rusty's company of course. No right at all. And Rusty had a home with Saul and his wife and just because they had spent so much time together these past few weeks, there was no written law that said that Rusty had to continue staying at their apartment. _The_ apartment. _His_ apartment. And why didn't it feel like that?

"Oh," he said again and there was a trace of awkwardness because maybe Rusty wasn't planning on coming back again the next night either or the next day come to that and possibly Rusty was so dismayed by working with someone so incredibly dumb as to be caught and imprisoned and more than that to let his identity slip and this could be it, this could be the last he'd see of-

Rusty made an inarticulate noise that might have been a snort or might have been a new way of saying "Idiot".

"I'll be back late tonight. You don't have to wait up."

_Of course, I will._

And the relief rushing through Danny was such that he didn't think to ask for details.

* * *

A bluff took Rusty past the gatekeeper at the club again and he was in luck: Monty and Arthur were relaxing in the lounge.

"Evening, gentlemen," he smiled.

"Garrick, isn't it?" Monty ventured, frowning.

"Carrick," Rusty corrected. "Richard Carrick. Let me buy you a drink."

* * *

The doorbell rang and rang and rang and then the door was wrenched open and Alexander was standing there.

"What the hell-"

Richard, Monty and Arthur fell into the hall laughing together.

"Alexander!" Rusty grinned and hiccoughed. "It's good old Alexander!"

"It's good old Alexander!" Arthur agreed and Monty belched.

White-faced with anger, Alexander drew himself up to his full height.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Good old Alexander," Rusty said again. "Said you'd be up for a little game of cards."

Benjamin and Jen appeared wonderingly behind Alexander.

"Jen!" Rusty said happily and weaved his way over to her. "Hello, Jen." He burped gently at her and Jen wrinkled her nose in disgust. Rusty took her hand in his and drew her forward to show her off to Monty and Arthur. "This is my very rich girlfriend. My very rich girlfriend who loves me very much."

Her face troubled, Jen pulled her hand out of his and stood looking at him as if he were a stranger.

"Benjamin!" Rusty carouselled round and grabbed the youngest Lowmen by the arms, spinning him round. "You got any more little secrets locked away?"

"We thought we'd just call in," Monty was saying to Alexander. "Just to say hello."

"You've said it. Now you can-"

Alexander's head shot round as if he had heard what Rusty had said for the first time. He strode over and broke Rusty's grip on Benjamin and dragged him down to the far end of the hall and pushed him up against the wall.

"You!" he hissed. "It was you!"

Rusty made some ineffectual swipes at Alexander's arms. "Probably was." He frowned and blinked. "What was?"

"You were at the club." Alexander darted a glance at his brother. "You talked to Benjamin. He told you and you decided to interfere in business that wasn't yours."

The smile on Rusty's face was wide and ingenuous. "Oh, that! Couldn't let my future brother-in-law become a criminal, could I? False imprisonment and all that. Not looked on awfully well."

Alexander ignored the assumption in favour of dealing with the implication.

"You got the codes out of Benjamin and you let him out." Question and exclamation and accusation and Alexander's fingers dug into Rusty's arms.

"Poor bastard was terrified," Rusty agreed. "Ran out of here like he was never coming back."

"I suggest you do the same."

Rusty yawned. "Nice way to thank me. Just thinking about my family. Looking out for those closest to me." He shook off Alexander and fished his wallet out of his inner pocket and flashed the cash. "And here am I wanting to get closer to you. Be friends with your friends." He waved a hand at Monty and Arthur. "Have a little civilised game of poker."

Alexander's eyes dropped down to the money and back up at Rusty, beaming at him and his face grew shrewd.

"Alright, Richard. Let's see what you're made of."

* * *

There was a little card table set up in the front drawing room. Benjamin was forbidden from taking part by a scowl from Alexander. Jen was sitting on a chair nearby and trying not to let her dismay show as her boyfriend's behaviour grew slightly more boorish towards her with every exchange.

Poker was played. Monty won and so did Arthur and Rusty and the only one losing was Alexander.

"Benjamin, go and get some money from downstairs," he instructed and Benjamin obeyed.

Alexander looked at Rusty sat opposite him, a stack of money neatly lined up in front of him.

"Your luck is in tonight," he commented.

"I make my own luck."

Alexander gripped the pack of cards. "So do I."

* * *

The stakes grew higher. Benjamin was sent again and again for funds. Alexander's face grew more and more sullen.

"Where's the money?" he demanded as Benjamin returned empty-handed.

"I…Alex…don't you think-"

Alexander's eyes flashed. "Don't you dare tell me what to do! Get me the money!"

"Alex," Monty began, "maybe we should-"

"You sit there," Alexander ordered. "This game isn't over. Benjamin, do as you're told!"

"He is doing as he's told."

William stood behind Benjamin and Alexander bared his teeth.

"I need more money."

William cast a glance at the notes on the table. "I'd say you've had enough for tonight."

"Don't tell me enough is enough!"

His father's face grew thunderous.

"While you're under my roof, you do as I say. No more money."

Alexander's scowl deepened and father and son stared at each other, the battle of wills raging silently. Eventually, Alexander's gaze dropped away and down at his hand and the pot in the middle of the table. He looked across at the only other player still in and something in the man's expression made his face turn even uglier.

"Lend me some cash, would you, Monty?"

"Er..." Monty looked down at his winnings. "Well..."

"There's a good sport."

Monty coughed. "Right."

Alexander smiled. He was accustomed to winning. And nothing and no one was going to stop him.

* * *

Rusty watched with amusement that he did not bother to hide as Alexander borrowed from first Monty and then Arthur, building and building the prize that lay between them. He had done a rough calculation early on and worked out that even with all the money Monty and Arthur were unwillingly giving up, he would still have the edge. Just slightly.

And now, now everything was on the table. And still it wasn't enough to call him. He watched as Alexander slowly realised the fact.

"Fuck!" Alexander exclaimed and everyone apart from Rusty reacted. Rusty kept his gaze even and mild and took a fierce joy in seeing Alexander squirm.

"Monty, I need more money," Alexander demanded but Monty shook his head.

"You cleaned me out, Lowmen," he said and the reproach was clear.

"No," Arthur added shortly before Alexander could even ask.

Benjamin was shaking his head and Jen was white-faced and wide-eyed.

"Leave it, son," was William's suggestion.

"Like hell."

Alexander reached into his pocket and produced his cigarette case.

"Solid silver. It will cover the difference."

He tossed it across to Rusty who picked it up delicately and turned it over in his hands.

"Solid silver? Well, I'll take your word for it. Alright," he agreed.

Alexander leaned forward, eyes bright. "Call."

Rusty lay down his cards. "Straight flush. Clubs. Jack through to seven."

The four Queens fell from Alexander's fingers.

"Thank you," Rusty said, reaching out to scoop in his winnings.

"No." Alexander's hand snapped out to grab his wrist. "No. You can't have won."

"I'm rather afraid I have."

"Our money, Lowmen!" Monty exclaimed.

"I'm good for it," Alexander snarled at him and turned his attention back to Rusty. "You can't have won!"

Rusty got out of his chair and leaned over the table, Alexander mirroring him.

"You can't have won!" Loud and angry.

"Why ever not?" Rusty asked, his eyes locked on Alexander's, watching the fury that had been present all evening come to a head.

"Because those weren't the cards I dealt you!" Alexander howled.

There was silence. And then there was a cacophony of disbelief and outrage and anger surrounding the pair of them. Rusty saw Alexander's focus gradually shift away from him to the room full of fury. Alexander let go of Rusty as words washed over him.

"You cheating bastard!"

"You're going to be blackballed from the club, Lowmen. I'll see to that."

"Disgraceful behaviour! To try and cheat a guest in our own home!"

Rusty silently collected up the cash and the cigarette case and then turned to Jen.

"Didn't realise you came from such low stock," he said. "I'd be better off dating a shopgirl."

The slap rang out and suddenly Rusty and Jen were centre stage.

"Go date one, then! We're through!" she snapped.

Rusty smiled at her and turned and bowed his head slightly at the others present, his eyes on Alexander, fuming and furious. Then he turned and walked away, his smile growing wider with every step.

* * *

Danny answered the door, blinking and with a hairstyle that suggested he had fallen asleep on the couch. Rusty followed him in to the apartment, shrugged off his overcoat and sat down on the easy chair with a sigh of contentment edged with relief. Danny woke up quickly.

"Where have you been?" he wondered and Rusty flicked him a smile and tossed the cigarette case at him.

Danny caught it and turned it over in his hands then looked uncomprehendingly up at Rusty. An enormous wad of notes was deposited on the coffee table.

"You have been busy," Danny commented with a smile and then the smile slipped away. "What have you been up to?"

"Unfinished business," Rusty said quietly. "It's finished now."

"What have you been up to?" Danny frowned.

He saw the briefest of hesitations as if Rusty was thinking of trying to keep the full truth from him and he was already marshalling his arguments to explain to Rusty why that would never ever work when Rusty sighed again.

"Alexander's not carrying as much weight as he used to."

Danny stared at the pile of money in growing realisation.

"He's given up smoking too."

"You..." Danny tailed off, looking at the cigarette case.

"We had a little poker game. You're right. He is appallingly bad at cheating."

Danny's face contorted with anger. "You went back there? You went and played cards with him?"

"I told you. Unfinish-"

"You let him near you?"

"Well, we were chapero-"

"Why?" Unfettered fury stared across the room at Rusty.

"I needed to-"

"Why would you be so stupid as to go anywhere near that bastard ever again?"

"It was something that-"

"You know what he's capable of!"

"Yes, I do!" The words cut across Danny and Rusty's gaze was blue and unblinking. "He hit you on the head, he tied you up and he left you to suffocate in the dark. He left you to die, Danny! Forgive me if I haven't forgotten that yet."

They stared and glared at each other for a time and then Danny's gaze faltered and he looked down again at the winnings.

"You never do anything like this again," he said in a low voice. "You never put yourself at unnecessary risk because of me again."

He looked up to see Rusty grinning and nodding and not meaning a word of it.

_Damn it, Rusty!_

"Danny," and Rusty leaned forward, his eyes very clear on this point. "Some things matter."

The anger left him. Some things did matter. Some things mattered a great deal. He sighed and he nodded and Rusty sat back, satisfied and there was silence and acceptance of the way things were, now and though they were never going to look that far forward, probably forever.

"Pizza?" Danny asked eventually and Rusty smiled at him.

"Pizza," he agreed and Danny padded off to phone through an order.

* * *

A/N: That's it, hope you enjoyed.

And anyone who hasn't seen, there is a challenge up on the forum asking people to suggest a word and/or write a fic the other side. Oh, look, it's all explained much better up there. Please go and look.


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